Fifty Shades of Keller
by TiffanyNida69
Summary: Summary in the first chapter. Rated M for adult content!
1. Chapter 1

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*WARNING:<strong>** The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, ****graphic sexual content, and DOM/SUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*Extra:<strong>** I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*Summary:<strong>**(A/U) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his mulinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><em><strong>(AN: So I have planned on writing this fanfic for quite some time now. I just hadn't had the guts to do it lol. Honestly, I'm scared you all will hate me O.O ….Anyways, I hope that you enjoy this story as much as I do writing it. For my lovely devoted readers, please do not worry... I plan to get back to my other stories as soon as I can lol. But I will say that I have warned you above for the certain reasons alone. I will add that bondage is a part of this story, and if you do not like that STOP READING IT HERE. I have the read the books over and over again, and they are quite addicting lol. Make note that, that is totally my opinion hehe. I'm not really into the bondage, DOM/SUB stuff myself, but the one thing about these books that pulled me in was the fact that it was actually a love story about two separate minded people...Truly drew me in fully. This fanfic is strictly based off the books. Enjoy!)**_

_Italics- Catherine's thoughts to herself._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 1-<strong>_

Damn my hair for not cooperating with me. It just won't behave at all. Damn Tess Vargas for being not-so-deathly-ill-but-ill-enough to force me to prepare to conduct one of her interviews for the student paper at WSU _(Washington State University). _At this point, my stroking of my brush has become violent as I try to force it into submission. Right now, I should be studying for my finals, which are only in a week, yet here I am standing in front of a mirror trying to decide if I should just pin my hair up and forget about it.

_Ugh, note to self... Don't fall asleep with your hair wet. Don't fall asleep with your wet. _I recite this sentence in my head, over and over as a reminder of reason as to why my hair won't do as it's told.

"Fuck it!" I breathe and I glare at the long dark haired, green eyed, yet pale woman staring back at me. I roll my eyes in frustration as I completely give up on my hair. I grab a hair tie and pull my hair up in a ponytail and hope that I look semi-presentable at least.

Tess is my roommate, and has chose that today of all days to become ill with the flu. In that case, she can't attend the interview that she had arranged in the first place to do, with some mega-industrialist tycoon that I have never in my life heard of. I'm supposed to be studying... I have one more essay to be working on... I HAVE A JOB! But no, today I'll be driving 165 miles to downtown Seattle in order to meet the enigmatic CEO of Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc. As an exceptional entrepreneur and major benefactor of our university, his time seems to be much more precious than mine, but granted Tess an interview.

Damn her extracurricular activities!

As I walk into the living room, Tess is curled up onto the couch, clinging to a throw blanket. I assume she senses my irritation at the moment as she doesn't say a word at first when I enter.

"Cat, I'm sorry. It took me nine months to get this interview. It will take another six possibly to reschedule, and then we'll both have already graduated by then. As the editor, I can't blow this off. Please." Tess begs in her rasped voice due to her sore throat. I wonder how on earth she does it... Even ill she's a knock-out with her beauty. Her light brown hair is in place, and her dark brown orbs are still bright. Although at the moment, they are red-rimmed and her nose is runny. I ignore my pang of unwelcome sympathy.

"Of course I'll go, Tess. You should get back to bed. Would you like some NyQuil? Tylenol?"

"NyQuil, please. Here are the questions and my digital recorder. Just press record here. Make notes, I'll transcribe it all."

"I know nothing about him." I murmur in my unexpected panic tone.

She smiles and sighs, pointing at the notepad she handed me, "The questions will see you through. Go. It's a long drive and I don't want you to be late."

I sigh, "Okay, I'm going. Get back in bed. I made you some soup to heat up later." _If this would be for any body else, I definitely would say no. I'll only do this for you, Tess. _I think as I stare at her fondly.

I gather my backpack, smiling wryly at Tess and head out of the door to the car. _I can't believe I let Tess talk me into this. _But then again, Tess could talk anybody into anything if she truly wanted to. She's articulate, strong, persuasive, argumentative, beautiful... And the one thing that seems to stand out to me throughout all the rest is she is my dearest, dearest friend.

* * *

><p>As I head towards Interstate 5, from Vancouver, Washington, the roads seem very calm, and clear. It's early actually, I'm not expected in Seattle until two this afternoon, but Tess loaned me her sporty Mercedes CLK and I want to joyride in it. I have my own car, don't get me wrong... Wanda, my old VW Beetle, is my baby, but I honestly wasn't sure the old girl would even make it through the full journey.<p>

Oh, how fun the Merc is to drive and the miles easily slip away as I put the pedal to the metal. Hmm, the adrenaline of the ride seems to keep my mind away from the nervousness I feel towards this last-minute interview. _Damn Tess' sickness! Mother Nature must truly hate me._

My destination is quite clear. I'm now heading in the direction of the headquarters of Mr. Keller's global enterprise. The structure is a twenty-story office building, all curved glass and steel. Truly an architect's utilitarian fantasy, with the words **KELLER**** HOUSE **written discretely in steel over the glass doors.

* * *

><p>When I arrived, it was a quarter to two, and I had felt greatly relieved that I was not late. Tess would have my ass if I missed such opportunity.<p>

I walk steady steps inside of the enormous– frankly intimidating –glass, steel, and white sandstone lobby. The desk is also made of a solid sandstone, where a very highly attractive and groomed blonde young woman sits, and smiles at me pleasantly. I return a smile as I finally approach her, "Hi. I'm here to see Mr. Keller. Catherine Chandler for Tess Vargas."

The immaculate blonde beauty arches an eyebrow at me, "Excuse me one moment, Miss Chandler." I nod. And as I'm standing... waiting for a response, I can't help but wish that I had borrowed one of Tess' formal blazers rather than worn my navy-blue jacket. I look down, brushing my palms down my one and only skirt to straighten it out after the long drive. I must say, I truly made a nice choice when it came to my brown knee-high boots.

I pull my blue sweater down, and tuck a stray strand of escaped hair behind my ear, clearing my throat as I continue to wait.

_What's taking so long? Jeez!_

"Miss Vargas is expected. Please sign in here, Miss Chandler. You'll want the last elevator on the right, press for the twentieth floor." She smiles, amused no doubt as I sign in.

She hands me a white pass, **VISITOR **stamped firmly on the front. I simply smirk, uncontrollably.

Thanking her, I make my way to the elevators, pushing the right button and I simply wait for it to take me to this damned, _yes, damned,_ interview. I just want to go and get through this quickly so I can return to the important matters of my life.

It quickly moves, higher and higher, until it dings causing my stomach to flutter back into its nervous state. The doors slide open and I take a deep breath as I step out into, yet another lobby.

I approach yet another sandstone desk, with yet another young blonde woman, who rises to greet me, "Miss Chandler, could you wait here, please?" she asks softly, pointing towards a waiting area with white leather chairs. _What the hell is with the blondes?... _I nod and turn, coming to a halt as I take in the view through the glass wall of the Seattle skyline that looks out through the city toward the Sound. _Wow._

I sit on one of the leather couches, crossing my right leg over my left as I wait.

"Miss Chandler, Mr. Keller will see you now. Do go through." Blonde Number Two says sweetly, turning and sashaying her hips as she returns back to her desk. I stand, sucking in a huge breath of air before walking towards his office.

I open the door and somehow managed to trip, falling head-first into his office. _Shit! __Me and my two left feet!_

I'm on the floor on my hands and knees when a pair of strong, yet gentle hands are around me, helping me stand... _Oh my God! I'm so embarrassed!_

I force myself to look up and... –_Holy Crap! He's so young!_

"Miss Vargas." He holds out a hand towards me with long fingers once I am fully to my feet, "I'm Vincent Keller. Are you alright? Would you like to sit?"

The man before me is tall... attractive, _VERY attractive! Yes. _He's dressed in a fine gray suit, white shirt, and black tie with unruly golden brown hair. His eyes are intense, and light brown. Oh, how they shine and regard me shrewdly.

I can't speak. _What the hell is wrong with me?! _I stumble through many words to say, but none of them fully come out.

He slightly smirks and it knocks the wind right out of my lungs as I begin to finally speak, "Uhm... Actually," I mutter lowly, trying to fully recover my voice, "Miss Vargas is indisposed, so she sent me instead. I hope you don't mind, Mr. Keller."

"And you are?" he says in the warmest of tones.

"Catherine Chandler. I'm studying English literature with Tess, um... Miss Vargas, at WSU Vancouver."

"I see," he says simply. My eyes betray me and trail down to his lips where I notice a ghost of a smile in his expression. Not too sure though.

"Would you like to sit?" he waves his hands towards an L-shaped white leather couch, but my eyes began to scan his office. It's awful huge for just one man. In front of the floor-to-ceiling windows sits a modern dark wood desk that six people could comfortably sit around. A matching coffee table sits by the L-shaped couch.

And then my eyes freeze on the mosaic of small paintings hanging, thirty-six of them arranged in a square. They are exquisite, painted in precise detail and displayed together. So breathtaking!

"A local artist. Trouton." says Keller when he catches my gaze.

"They're lovely. Raising the ordinary to extraordinary." I murmur, distracted both by him and the paintings.

He cocks his head to one side, and regards me intently, "I couldn't agree more, Miss Chandler." he replies, his voice soft. I'm not truly sure why, but I find myself blushing to his tone.

I shake my head, trying to get back to the very reason that I am here as I open my backpack and retrieve the questions Tess gave to me.

Next I grab the digital recorder, and fumble it in my fingers as I fight my shaky hands. _Why am I so nervous?_

Mr. Keller says nothing, just waits patiently – I hope at least – and I become instantly embarrassed and flustered.

I swallow hard and find the courage to look up and catch him staring at me with one hand in his lap, the other on his chin, trailing his long index finger across his lips. I assume he's trying to suppress a smile.

"S-sorry," I stutter, "I'm not used to this."

"Take all the time you need, Miss Chandler." he says, almost amusingly.

"Do you mind if I record your answers?"

"After you've taken so much trouble to set up the recorder, you ask me now?"

I flush.

Is he teasing me? I sure hope so!

I have this feeling that he some-what pities me. "No, I don't mind." he says.

"Did Tess... I mean, Miss Vargas, explain what the interview was for?"

"Yes. To appear in the graduation issue of the student newspaper as I shall be conferring the degrees at this year's graduation ceremony."

_Oh!_ I'm surprisingly shocked, but Tess never really went into great details with me. And of course, I honestly had no idea that Mr. Keller would be a part of the ceremony. Then I frown, taking in the realization that this man... this beautiful, yet intimidating man will be handing me, _me!_ my degree.

"Good." I swallow hard, nervously, "I have some questions, Mr. Keller." I nervously tuck a strand of loose hair behind my ear, looking back up into his eyes.

"I thought that you might." he deadpans, then begins laughing at me. I clear my throat and sit up and square as my cheeks heat at the realization of his laughter. Pressing the button on the recorder, I look up, trying to look professional.

"You're very young to have amassed such an empire. To what do you owe your success?" I ask, glancing up at him.

His smile is rueful, but he seems slightly disappointed.

"Business is all about people, Miss Chandler. And I'm very good at judging people. I know how they tick, what makes them flourish, what doesn't, what inspires them, and how to incentivize them. I employ an exceptional team, and I reward them well." he pauses and fixes me with his golden brown stare, "My belief is to achieve success in any scheme one has to make oneself master of that scheme, know it inside and out, know every detail. I work hard... very hard to do that. I make decisions based on logic and facts. I have a natural gut instinct that can spot and nurture a good solid idea and good people. The bottom line is it's always down to good people."

"Maybe you're just lucky." Okay, that wasn't exactly a question. It wasn't even on the list at all. I actually fell into the moment and kind of outburst before I thought twice about it. Now I feel that I maybe shouldn't have when his eyes flare momentarily in surprise.

"I don't subscribe to luck or chance, Miss Chandler. The harder I work, the more luck I seem to have. It really is all about having the right people on your team and directing their energies accordingly. I think it was Harvey Firestone who said, 'The growth and development of people is the highest calling of leadership.'"

"You sound like a control freak." The words completely flew out of my mouth, yet again before thinking about it.

"Oh, I exercise control in all things, Miss Chandler." he says with the slightest touch of humor in his now blooming smile. Oh, how his smile is truly amazing. I can't help but gaze at him, and he gazes back, steadily and impassive. My heart feels like it is about to beat completely out of my chest, and my face flushes yet again.

How on earth does this man I hardly know anything about have such an unnerving affect on me? Is it because I'm attracted to him? His blazing, beautiful eyes? Or maybe the way he strokes his bottom lip with his index finger. _Oh, my... Please, stop doing that!_

"Besides, immense power is acquired by assuring yourself in your secret reveries that you were born to control things." he continues with his soft tone. I flush again.

"Do you feel that you have immense power, Mr. Keller?" _Control Freak!_

"I employ over forty-thousand people, Miss Chandler. That gives me a certain sense of responsibility – power, if you will. If I were to decide I was no longer interested in the telecommunications business and sell, twenty-thousand people would struggle to make their mortgage payments after a month or so."

My mouth drops... _Holy shit!_

"Don't you have a board to answer to?" I ask slightly disgusted.

"I own my company. I don't have to answer to a board."He says raising an eyebrow at me.

Jeez, he's an arrogant one. I change tack, "And do you have any interests outside your work?"

"I have varied interests, Miss Chandler." He slightly smiles as he continues, "_Very_ varied." And for some reason his tone and gaze has me feeling confounded and heated. His eyes are alight with some kind of wicked thought.

"But if you work so hard, what do you do to chill out?"

"Chill out?" He smiles, revealing perfect white teeth... Amused by my choice of words, I assume. But I must admit, it is so nice to see him smile. He truly is a beautiful man... no one should be this good looking!

"Well, to 'chill out' as you put it – I sail, I fly, I indulge in various physical pursuits." He shifts in his chair, as he continues, "I'm a very wealthy man, Miss Chandler. And I have expensive and absorbing hobbies."

I steal myself from his gaze to look back down to Tess' questions, then back up, "You invest in manufacturing. Why, specifically?" I ask quickly to try to quicken the interview. I swear if Tess wasn't a person I loved oh, so dearly... she would totally would be far worse than she is now with her illness. I'd probably kill her!

His mouth quirks up slightly, and he stares directly at me. Oh my God, why do I feel so uncomfortable around him... especially when he stares at me! Ugh!

"I like to build things. I like to know how things work, what makes things tick, how to construct and deconstruct. And I have a love of ships. What can I say?"

"That sounds like your heart talking rather than logic and facts, Mr. Keller."

A ghost of smile appears on his face, "Possibly. Though there are people who'd say I don't have a heart, Miss Chandler."

"Why would they say that?"

"Because they know me well." His lip curls in a wry smile.

"Would your friends say you're easy to get to know?" _Shit! IT'S NOT ON THE LIST!_

"I'm a very private person, Miss Chandler. I go a long way to protect my privacy. I don't often give interviews..."

"Why did you agree to do this one?" I ask, curious more now than when I first started this interview.

"Because I'm a benefactor of the university, and for all intents and purposes, I couldn't get Miss Vargas off my back. She badgered and badgered my PR people, and I admire that kind of tenacity."

_Now you know how I feel. _I know better than anybody about how tenacious Tess can be. I wouldn't be sitting here otherwise.

"You also invest in farming technologies. Why are you interested in that area?"

"We can't eat money, Miss Chandler. And there are too many people on this planet who don't have enough to eat."

"That sounds very philanthropic. Is it something you feel passionately about? Feeding the world's poor?"

He shrugs, "It's shrewd business." he murmurs, though I think he's being disingenuous. I glance back down at the next question, confused by it's attitude, "Do you have a philosophy? If so, what is it?"

"I don't have a philosophy as such. Maybe a guiding principle – Carnegie's: 'A man who acquires the ability to take full possession of his own mind may take possession of anything else to which he is justly entitled.' I'm very singular, driven. I like control – of myself and those around me."

"So you possess things?" _You are a control freak!_

"I want to deserve to possess them, but yes, bottom line, I do."

"You sound like the ultimate consumer."

"I am." He smiles, but it doesn't seem to touch his eyes. I can't help but think that we are now talking about something else, but I'm mystified as to what exactly it is.

In my opinion, Tess has quite enough material. But I glance down at the next question, "You were adopted. How much do you think that's shaped the way you are?" Oh, this is more personal. My eyes glance up at him, and I find myself staring. _Please don't be offended!_

His brow furrows, "I have no way of knowing."

_This is interesting, Mr. Keller... _"How old were you when you were adopted?"

"That's matter of public record, Miss Chandler." His voice is stern. _Crap! _

Flustered, I move on quickly, "You've had to sacrifice family life for your work."

"That's not a question." He's terse.

"Sorry." I squirm. He's making me feel like an errant child, so I try again, "Have you had to sacrifice family life for your work?"

"I have a family. I have a brother and a sister and two loving parents. I'm not interested in extending my family beyond that."

"Are you gay, Mr. Keller?"

He inhales sharply, causing me to cringe slightly. _Crap! _Why didn't I employ some kind of filter before I read this question straight out to him? How can I tell him that I am only asking questions that Tess wrote down for me to ask?

_Damn Tess and her curiosity!_

"No, Catherine... I'm not." He raises his eyebrows with a cool gleam in them. Oh, great! He's not pleased.

"I apologize. It's, um... written here." I try my best to calm my heartbeat due to hearing him call me by my first name. That was surely a first, and it made me feel even more nervous than I already was. I tuck my loosened hair back behind my ear as he cocks his head to one side, "These aren't your own questions?"

The blood drains from my head.

"Er... no. Tess – Miss Vargas – she compiled the questions."

"Are you colleagues on the student paper?" _Oh shit! _I have nothing to do with the student paper, only Tess. I can feel my face heat up.

"No. She's my roommate." I say lowly, looking back down then back up to meet his appraising eyes. He rubs his chin in quiet deliberation, gazing at me.

"Did you volunteer to do this interview?" he asks, his voice is deadly quiet.

_Hold up! _Whose doing this interview? Him or me? His eyes are burning into me and I feel compelled to answer truthfully, "I was drafted. She's not well." my voice is weak and apologetic.

"That explains a great deal."

There's a sudden knock at the door and Blonde Number Two comes waltzing right into his office, "Mr. Keller, forgive me for interrupting, but your next meeting is in two minutes."

"We're not finished here, Andrea. Please cancel it."

Andrea hesitates, gaping at him. She seems like she is lost. He raises his eyebrows towards her and she flushes into a bright pink. _Sure is good to know that I am not the only one affected by his intimidating gazes._

"Very well, Mr. Keller." she mutters. She turns around and leaves, shutting the door behind her. He frowns, looking back at me.

"Where were we, Miss Chandler?"

_Oh... So were back to Miss Chandler, now?_

"Please, don't let me keep you from anything." I breathe.

"I want to know about you. I think that's only fair, Miss Chandler." His gaze is more curious now. _Oh, no, no, no... __Where are you going with this, Mr. Keller?_

He shifts in his chair, placing his elbows onto his desk and steeples his fingers in front of his mouth. His mouth is very... distracting. I swallow, hard.

"There's not much to know." I nearly whisper.

"What are your plans after you graduate?"

I shrug, thrown by his interest. _Move to Seattle with Tess, find a job. _Quite honestly, I haven't put forth much thought into it.

"I haven't made any plans, Mr. Keller. I just need to get through my final exams for now." _Which I should be studying for right now._

"We run an excellent internship program here." he says quietly. I'm actually kind of shocked. Is he trying to offer me a job?

"Oh. I'll bear that in mind. Thank you." I murmur, confounded. "Though I'm not sure I'd fit in here." I continue.

"Why do you say that?" he says, tilting his head with a slight grin.

"Its obvious, isn't it?" _I'm uncoordinated, scruffy, oh! And I'm not blonde!_

"Not to me." His gaze is intense, all humor is gone. _Good God! Stop looking at me like that! _I gaze back momentarily, then force my eyes away from his, looking down at my clasped hands. _What are you doing to me?!_

I have to go... NOW! I lean forward to grab the recorder, shutting it off and placing it into my bag. I can still feel his burning gaze upon me. I flush, yet again.

"Would you like for me to show you around?" he asks.

"I'm sure you're far too busy, Mr. Keller and I do have a long drive."

"You're driving back to Vancouver?" He sounds surprised. Anxious even. He glances out of the window then back to me. It's began raining, "Well, you'd better drive carefully." His tone is stern, authoritative. Why should he even care? "Did you get everything you need, Miss Chandler?" he adds.

"Yes, Sir." I reply, finishing up with my packing of material I had brought with me. His eyes narrow on me, speculatively.

"Thank you for the interview, Mr. Keller."

"The pleasure's been all mine." he says polite as ever.

As I rise, he stands and holds out his hand, "Until we meet again, Miss Chandler." And it almost sounds like a challenge. Maybe a threat? I'm not sure which.

I shake his hand once more, astounded that, that odd current between us is still there. It must be my nerves, "Mr. Keller." I nod at him. Moving with an athletic grace, he opens the door wide.

"Just ensuring you make it through the door, Miss Chandler." he gives me a small smile. Obviously he's talking about how I entered less-than-elegantly earlier. I blush.

"That's very considerate, Mr. Keller." I snap, and his smile widens. _I'm glad you find me entertaining._ I glower inwardly, walking into the foyer.

He follows, and it completely shocks me. Didn't expect that to happen. Andrea looks up just as puzzled looking as I am.

"Did you have a coat?" he asks.

"A jacket, actually."

Andrea leaps up from her seat and retrieves my jacket, which Keller takes from her and holds it up, opening it for me. I rapidly blink, sliding my arms into my jacket. I close my eyes briefly to savor the proximity between us, and clearly I'm shocked at myself for my actions.

He places his hands onto my shoulders... – _Oh, my! – _What is he doing?

He reaches out and pushes the call button on the elevator with his left hand, his right still placed onto my shoulder. I begin to feel faint. How is he affecting me so easily?!

When the elevator arrives, I practically jump inside, relieved to finally be able to go home and get lost in my studies. I sigh, pushing the ground floor button... and for some oddly reason, I glance up to be met with his eyes. My heart races, and my breathing has increased. _Dear God, this man is so good looking! __How unnerving!_

"Catherine." he says as a farewell.

I raise a brow, biting my lower lip unconsciously, "Vincent." I nod and the doors to the elevator close ever so slowly. Once fully closed, I lean back onto the wall as I release the breath I had been holding in for God only knows how long. And yet I wonder in that moment if I _would _actually see Vincent Keller again.

* * *

><p><strong>**Okay, this concludes chapter one. I hope you all liked it. I have been dying to write this replica of Fifty Shades of Grey for our sexy VinCat for quite some time now and am glad I have. Hope none of you mind ;) Anyways, if you don't want to read it, you don't have to. I'm doing this more for myself rather than for my readers, although I do appreciate all of you greatly! I love you guys and I hope you all had a great Thanksgiving. XOXO!**<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*WARNING:<strong>** The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, ****graphic sexual content, and DOM/SUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*Extra:<strong>** I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: So I have some readers that haven't read FSOG before. Oh, how you all are missing out lol. Hopefully you will stick with me through this story so you know what happens hehe ;) I will let you all know that I will skip some scenes, but not drastically. Anyways, I am so pleased to know that I have a lot pleased readers with this. I honestly thought some of you would hate me for combining the two together lol. I know there are some concerns about me writing this exactly like the books, but my disclaimer should protect me from that mess lol. Thank you all for your awesomeness!)**

_Italics are for Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 2-<strong>_

No man has ever affected me the way Vincent Keller has, and I can't put my finger on it as to why. Is it his looks? His civility? Wealth? Power? I just don't understand my irrational reaction towards him. As I leave the city limits behind, I begin to feel foolish and embarrassed as I replay the interview in my mind. Surely I'm overreacting to something that is imaginary.

_Okay... he's very attractive, confident, commanding, at ease with himself._

But on the flip side of the coin he's arrogant, and folr all his impeccable manners, he's autocratic and cold. Well, on the surface at least. An involuntary shiver runs down my spine. _He's arrogant, but he has a right to be considering he had accomplished so much at such a young age._

Again, I find myself irritated at Tess for not giving me a brief biography...

And I asked him if he was gay. How embarrassing! I know deep down that I will never allow myself to live without the daily reminders of how I asked Vincent Keller if he was gay. _Ground, swallow me now!_

I realize that I am driving more cautiously than I normally do. And I know deep down that it has to do with the memory of how his deep, stern voice told me to drive carefully. Shaking my head, I realize that Keller's more like a man twice his age.

_Forget it, Cat!_ I scold myself. All in all, it's been a very interesting experience and not to dwell on it. I need to just put it all behind me, including the damn gay question. _Damn Tess Vargas!_

I switch on the radio, trying to help clear my mind, turning up the volume so the indie rock music is blasting from the speakers. I hit the gas and drive a little faster as I hit Interstate 5, realizing that I can drive as fast as I want.

* * *

><p>Tess and I live in a small community of duplex apartments close to the Vancouver campus of WSU. I'm sort of lucky though, Tess' parents bought the place for her, and I pay peanuts for rent. It's been my home for four years now.<p>

As I pull up outside, I know Tess is going to want details. She is awful tenacious. I hope I don't have to elaborate much beyond what was said during the interview... Tess does have the recorder after-all. What more would she need from me?

"Cat, you're back!" Tess sits in the living area, surrounded by books. She's clearly been studying for finals – something I need to start immediately.

She bounds up to me and hugs me hard, "I was beginning to worry. I expected you back sooner."

"Oh, I thought I made good time considering the interview ran over." I wave the digital recorder at her.

"Cat, thank you so much for doing this. I owe you, I know. How was it? What was he like?"

_Oh, no! Here we go with the Tess Vargas Inquisition._

I struggle to answer her question. What can I say?

"I'm glad it's over and I don't have to see him again. He was rather intimidating, you know." I shrug. "He's very focused, intense even... and young. _Really_ young."

Tess gazes at me innocently. I frown.

"Don't you look so innocent, Tess. Why didn't you give me a biography? He made me feel like such an idiot for skimping on basic research."

Tess clamps a hand onto her mouth, "Jeez, Cat. I'm sorry... I didn't think."

"Mostly, he was courteous, formal, slightly stuffy... like he's old before his time. He doesn't talk like a man of twenty-something. How old _is_ he anyways?" I huff.

"Twenty-seven. Jeez, Cat. I'm so sorry. I should have briefed you, but I was in such a panic. Let me have the recorder and I'll start transcribing the interview."

I hand it to her and sigh, "You look better. Did you eat your soup?" I ask, keen to change the subject.

"Yes, and it was amazing, as usual. I'm feeling much better, thank you." she smiles and I look at my watch, "I have to run. I can still make my shift at Clayton's."

"Cat, you'll be exhausted."

"I'll be fine, Tess. Really. I'll see you later."

* * *

><p>Clayton's has been my choice of work since I started at WSU. It's the largest, most independent hardware store in the Portland area, and over the four years that I've worked here, I've come to know a little bit about almost everything we sell. Ironically, I'm crap at any DIY idea. I leave all of that stuff to my dad.<p>

I'm a bit relieved that I made my shift as it gives me something else to focus on besides Vincent Keller. We're busy today... It's the start of the summer season though, and folks are redecorating their homes. Mrs. Clayton looks relieved to see me here, "Cat! I thought you weren't going to make it today."

"My appointment didn't take as long as I thought. I can do a couple of hours."

"I'm real pleased to see you, Cat. We definitely need the help." she says and she sends me back to the storeroom to start restocking shelves, and I'm soon absorbed in the task.

* * *

><p>As I arrive back home later, Tess is wearing headphones, working on her computer. Her nose is still pink, but she has clearly sunk her teeth into a story. She's concentrating and typing furiously.<p>

I feel completely drained, exhausted by the long drive, by the grueling interview, and by being swamped at Clayton's. I slump into the couch, thinking about the essay I have to finish and the studying I still have yet to do for my finals and haven't done yet because I holed up with..._him._

"You've got some good stuff here, Cat. Well done. I can't believe you didn't take him up on his offer to show you around. He obviously wanted more time with you." Tess gives me a fleeting, quizzical look.

I flush, and my heart-rate accelerates. That wasn't the reason, surely. He just wanted to show me around so I could see that he was lord of all he surveyed. I realize I'm biting my lip, and I hope Tess doesn't notice.

"I hear what you mean about formal. Did you take any notes?" she asks.

"Um... no, I didn't."

"That's fine. I can still make a fine article with this. Shame we don't have some original stills. Good looking son of a bitch, isn't he?"

"I suppose so." I sigh, trying to sound disinterested. I succeed.

"Oh, come on, Cat. Even you can't be immune to his looks." She arches a perfect eyebrow at me.

_Crap! _I feel myself blush so I distract her with flattery, "You probably would have got a lot more out of him."

"I doubt that, Cat. Come on... he practically offered you a job. Given that I foisted this on you at the last minute, you did very well." She says, glancing up at me speculatively.

I make a quick retreat into the kitchen to try and stop her blabbering of Vincent Keller to me.

"So what did you really think of him?"

_Damn, she's inquisitive. _Why can't she just let this freaking go?! _Think of something, QUICK!_

"He's very driven, controlling, arrogant...scary, but very charismatic. I can understand the fascination." I add truthfully, hoping this will shut her up once and for all about him.

"You? Fascinated by a man? That's a first." she snorts.

I sigh frustratedly and turn to grab the makings of a sandwich so she can't see the irritation building on my face.

Then finally, I find myself curious as to why I had to ask Mr. Keller the most embarrassing question of them all. I was truly mortified, and he was pissed to be asked such a question, "Why did you want to know if he was gay?"

"Well, whenever he is in the society pages, he never has a date."

"It was embarrassing. The whole thing was embarrassing. I'm glad I'll never have to lay eyes on him again." I say louder than I really wanted to.

"Oh, Cat... It can't have been that bad. I think he sounds quite taken with you."

_Taken with me?_ Now I know Tess is being ridiculous.

"Would you like a sandwich?" I change the subject quickly.

"Please." she says softly, looking at me as if she wanted me to react to the whole taken-by-you thing. But she says no more about the interview... and she definitely says nothing more about Vincent Keller.

We sat at the dinner table quietly as we eat. She works on her article, and I work on my essay on _Tess of the d'Urbevilles. _Damn, that woman was in the wrong place, at the wrong time, in the wrong century. By the time I finish, it's midnight and Tess has long since gone to bed. I make my way to my room exhausted, yet pleased that I had accomplished so much on a Monday.

I curl up in my bed and wrap myself up in my mother's quilt. I close my eyes, and fall fast asleep. That night I dream of dark places, bleak, cold white floors, and golden brown eyes.

* * *

><p>The week goes by pretty quickly, Tess is much better now, and I finally decide that I should call and check on my mother in Georgia. I hope that Bob, her relatively new but much older husband, is keeping an eye on her now that I'm no longer there. He does seem more grounded than Husband Number Three.<p>

"How are things with you, Cat?"

For a moment, I hesitate and I know I grabbed my mother's full attention by this, "I'm fine."

"Cat? Have you met someone?" _Wow... how does she do that? _The excitement in her voice is quite obvious.

"No, Mom, it's nothing. You'll be the first to know if I do."

"Cat, you really need to get out more, honey. You worry me."

"Mom, I'm fine. How's Bob?" As ever, distraction is the best policy... at least it is in my book.

Later that evening, I call Thomas, my stepdad, and Mom's Husband Number Two. He's te man I consider as my father and the man whose name I bear. It's a brief conversation. In fact, it's not so much a conversation as a one-sided series of grunts in response to my gentle coaxing. Thomas is not a talker. But, he's still alive. He loves to watch soccer on TV (and going bowling, or fly-fishing, or making furniture of course when he's not lost in a soccer game.) Thomas is a skilled carpenter and the reason I know the difference between a hawk and a handsaw. All seems to be going great with him these days.

* * *

><p>Friday night, Tess and I decided we would stay in and take some time off from studies, work, and student newspapers. The doorbell rings and as I open the door, my good friend, Patrick is standing in the doorway, clutching a bottle of champagne.<p>

"Patrick! Great to see you!" I squeal, grabbing him to give him a quick hug, "Come in."

Patrick was the first person to talk to me when I first started at WSU. He was just as lost and lonely as I was, and recognized a kindred spirit in each other. We've been friends ever since. Not only do we share a sense-of-humor, but we also discovered later on in our friendship that our dads were in the same army together. As a result, our fathers became great friends as well.

Patrick is studying engineering and is the first of his family to attend college. He's bright, and very talented with a camera. He would make a great photographer one day.

"I have news." he grins, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Don't tell me, you've managed not to get kicked out for another week." I tease as we all gather in the kitchen. I grab us all a glass and Patrick pours the champagne.

"No..." he smiles, "The Portland Place Gallery is going to exhibit my photos next month."

"Oh my God! Patrick! That's amazing... Congratulations!" I squeal. Delighted for him, I hug him again. Tess beams at him, too.

"Way to go, Patrick! I should put this in the student paper. Nothing like last-minute editorial changes on a Friday evening." She feigns annoyance.

"Let's celebrate. I want you to come to the opening." Patrick looks intently at me and I flush. "Both of you, of course." he adds, glancing nervously at Tess.

Patrick and I are great friends. But deep down I know that he would like to be more. Don't get me wrong, Patrick is cute and funny, but he's just not for me. He's more like a brother I never had. Tess often teases me that I'm missing the need-a-boyfriend gene, but honestly I just haven't met anyone who... well, whom I'm attracted to, even though part of me longs for the fabled trembling knees, heart-in-my-mouth, butterflies-in-my-belly moments.

Sometimes I wonder if something is wrong with me. Perhaps I have spent too long in the company of my literary romantic heroes, and consequently my ideals and expectations are far too high. But in reality, no one has made me feel like that.

_Until very recently, _the unwelcome, still-small voice of my subconscious whispers. _NO!_ I banish the mere thought immediately.

I watch Patrick pour us all another drink. He's tall, and in his jeans and T-shirt, he's all shoulders and muscles, tanned skin, dark, semi-long hair, and bright blue eyes. Yes, Patrick's pretty hot, but I think he's finally getting the message: _we're just friends. _

Patrick must have realized my gaze, glancing up to meet my eyes. He smiles, taking another sip of his champagne.

* * *

><p>As Saturday arrives, I'm back to work at Clayton's...<p>

The store is a fucking nightmare!

We are besieged by do-it-yourselers wanting to spruce up their homes. Mr. and Mrs. Clayton, Joe and Gabe (the other part-timers) and I are besieged by customers. But there's a lull around lunchtime, so Mrs. Clayton asks me to check on some orders while I eat my bagel. I'm engrossed in the task, checking the catalog numbers against the items we need and the items we've already ordered. My eyes flicker from the order book to the computer screen and back as I make sure the entries match. Then for some reason, I glance up... and find myself locked in the bold, golden brown eyes belonging to Vincent Keller, who's standing at the counter, staring at me.

_Heart failure alert!_

"Miss Chandler. What a surprise." His gaze is unwavering and intense... _very _intense!

_Holy crap! _What is _he _doing here?! And he looks outdoorsy with his tousled hair and in his plain black T-shirt and dark brown sweater, blue jeans, and dark brown walking boots. I think my mouth has popped open, and I can't locate my brain, or my voice.

"Mr. Keller." I whisper, because that's all I can manage at the moment. There's a ghost of a smile on his lips and his eyes are alight with humor, as if he's enjoying some private joke.

"I was in the area," he says by way of explanation, "I need to stock up on a few things. It's a pleasure to see you again, Miss Chandler." His voice is warm and oh so husky, like dark melted chocolate fudge caramel...or something.

I shake my head, trying to gather my wits as my heart pounds a frantic tempo, and for some reason I'm blushing furiously under his steady gaze. I'm completely thrown by the sight of him standing before me. The memories I held of him did not do me any justice. He's not merely good-looking...he's the epitome of male beauty, breathtaking, and he's here...where I work...at this very moment.

_Go figure!_

Finally my functions are finally restored and reconnected with the rest of my body as I begin to speak, "Cat. My name's Catherine." I mutter, "What can I help you with, Mr. Keller?"

He smiles, and again it makes me think its because of some big secret. It's so disconcerting.

Taking a deep breath, I put on my best professional I've-worked-in-this-shop-for-four-years facade. _I can do this!_

"There are a few items I need. To start with, I'd like some cable ties." He murmurs, his expression both cool and amused.

_Cable ties?_

"We stock various lengths. Shall I show you?" I mutter, my voice soft and wavering. _Get a grip, Chandler._

A slight frown mars Keller's rather lovely brow, "Please. Lead the way, Miss Chandler." he says. I try nonchalance as I come out from behind the counter, but really I'm trying really hard not to fall onto my face again. My legs had suddenly the same consistency of Jell-O. I'm so glad that I wore my best jeans this morning.

"They're with the electrical goods, aisle eight." my voice is a little too bright. I glance up at him and regret it almost immediately.

_Damn, he is so fine..._

"After you." he murmurs, gestering with his long-fingered, beautifully manicured hand.

With my heart almost strangling me, because it is currently in my throat, I head down one of the aisles to the electronical section. _Why is he in Portland? Why is he here at Clayton's? _And from a very tiny, underused part of my brain, probably located at the base of my medulla oblongata near where my subconscience dwells, comes the thought: _He's here to see you._

_No way!_ I tell myself immediately. Why would this beautiful, powerful, urbane man want to see me? The ideal is completely ridiculous!

"Are you in Portland on business?" I ask, curiously. My voice is too high, almost like I have my finger trapped in a door or something.

_Damn, try to be cool, Cat!_

"I was visiting the WSU farming division. It's based in Vancouver. I'm currently funding some research there in crop rotation and soil science." he says matter-of-factly. _See? He's NOT here for you._

I flush at my foolish, wayward thoughts.

"All part of your feed-the-world plan?" I tease.

"Something like that." he acknowledges, and his lips quirk up in a half smile.

He gazes at the selection of cable ties we stock at Clayton's. _What is he going to do with those? _I cannot picture him as a do-it-yourselfer at all.

He trails his fingers across the various selections in front of him and for some reason I have to force myself to look away.

He bends and selects a pack, "These will do." he says with his oh-so-secret-smile.

"Is there anything else?" I ask.

"I'd like some masking tape."

_Masking tape?_

"Are you redecoration?" The words are out of my mouth before I can think.

"No, not redecorating." he says quickly, then smirks, and I have the uncanny feeling he's laughing at me.

_Am I that funny? Funny looking?_

"This way." I murmur with a sigh, embarrassed. "Masking tape is in the decorating aisle."

I glance behind me as he follows.

"Have you worked here long?" he asks, his voice low and he's gazing at me, concentrating hard. I blush brightly. _Why the hell does he have this effect on me? _

"Four years." I mutter as we reach our goal. To distract myself, I reach down and select the two widths of masking tape that we stock.

"I'll take that one." Keller says softly, pointing at the wider tape, which I pass to him. Our fingers brushg briefly, and the current is there again, zapping through my body like I've touched an exposed wire. I gasp involuntarily as I feel the current go all the way down to somewhere dark and unexplored, deep in my belly.

"Anything else?" my voice is husky and breathy. His eyes widen slightly.

"Some...rope, I think." his voice mirrors mine, husky.

"This way." I duck my head down to hide my recurring blush and move toward the aisle.

"What sort were you after? We have synthetic and natural filament rope...twine...cable cord..." I halt at his expression, his eyes darkening. _Holy cow!_

"I'll take five yards of the natural filament rope, please."

With trembling fingers, I quickly start measuring the rope against the fixed ruler, aware that his hot, brown gaze is still on me. I dare not to look at him.

Taking my Stanley knife out of my back pocket, I cut the rope and coil it neatly before tying it in a slipknot.

"Were you a Girl Scout?" he asks, sculptured, sensual lips curled in amusement. _STOP LOOKING AT HIS MOUTH!_

"Organized group activities aren't my thing, Mr. Keller."

He arches a brow.

"What _is_ your thing, Catherine?" he asks, his voice soft, and his secret smile is back. I stare at him, unable to respond.

_Just try to be cool, Catherine..._

"Books." I whisper, but inside... my subconscious is screaming: _You! You are my thing! _

"What kind of books?" he cocks his head to one side. _Why is he so interested?_

"Oh, you know. The usual. The classics. British literature, mainly."

He rubs his chin with his long finger and thumb as he contemplates my answer. Or maybe he is just bored with me already, "Anything else you need?" I have to get off this subject... those fingers on that face are beguiling.

"I don't know. What else would you recommend?"

_What would I recommend?!_

"For a do-it-yourselfer?" I ask low.

He nods, his eyes alive and bright.

"Coveralls." I reply and I know I'm no longer screening what's coming out of my mouth.

He raises an eyebrow, amused yet again.

"You wouldn't want to ruin your clothing." I gesture vaguely in the direction of his jeans.

"I could always take them off." he smirks.

"Um..." I feel the color in my cheeks rising again. I must be the color of The Communist Manisfesto. _Stop talking NOW!_

"I'll take some coveralls. Heaven forbid I should ruin any clothing." he says dryly.

"Do you need anything else?" I squeak as I hand him the blue coveralls.

He ignores my inquery.

"How's the article coming along?" he asks.

"I'm not writing it, Tess is. Miss Vargas. My roommate, she's the writer. She's very happy with it. She's the editor of the newspaper, and she was devastated that she couldn't do the interview herself, in person." I gasp, almost like coming up for air after being underwater for several minutes.

"Her only concern is that she doesn't have any original photographs of you." I add.

"What sort of photographs does she want?"

Okay, I hadn't factored out an answer for that question, because I didn't think that Vincent and I would even be having this conversation... ever!

"Well, I'm around. Tomorrow, perhaps?"

"You'd be willing to do a photo shoot?" My voice is still squeaky. Tess will be in seventh heaven if I can pull this off, "And Tess will be delighted, if we can find a photographer." I'm so pleased, I smile at him broadly.

For a fraction of a second, he looks lost somehow, and the Earth shifts slightly on its axis, the tectonic plates sliding into a new position.

_Oh, my. Vincent Keller's lost look._

"Let me know about tomorrow," he says, reaching into his pocket, pulling out a card, "My card. It has my cell number on it. You'll need to call before ten in the morning."

"Okay." I grin up at him. Tess is going to be thrilled!

"_Cat!"_ Joe calls from behind me. I close my eyes briefly, turning on my heels to face Joe, whom is coming right towards me.

"Er, excuse me for a moment, Mr. Keller." Vincent frowns as I turn away from him.

Joe has always been a good buddy of mine. I must admit, in this strange moment that I'm having with the rich, powerful, awesomely of-the-charts attractive control freak Keller, it's great to talk to someone who's normal.

"Cat, hi. It's so good to see you!" Joe gushes.

"Hey, Joe. How are you? You home for your brother's birthday?"

"Yep. You're looking well, Catherine... really well." Joe grins as he examines me at arms length. He releases me, but keeps a protective, yet possessive arm draped over my shoulder. I shuffle from foot to foot, embarrassed. I mean don't get me wrong, it's good to see Joe. But he's always been over-familiar.

I glance up at Vincent, he's watching us like a hawk, his eyes hooded and speculative, his mouth a hard, impassive line. He's changed from the weirdly attentive customer to someone else... someone cold and distant.

"Joe, I'm with a customer. Someone you should meet." I say, trying to defuse the antagonism I see in Keller's expression. I drag Joe over to where Vincent still stands, "Er, Joe, this is Vincent Keller. Mr. Keller, this is Joe Bishop. His cousin owns the store." And for some odd reason, I feel the need to explain further to Mr. Keller, "I've known Joe ever since I've worked here, though we don't see each other much. He's back from Princeton, where he's studying business administration." I'm babbling... _Stop now!_

"Mr. Bishop." Keller holds out his hand, his look is unreadable.

"Mr. Keller." Joe returns his handshake, then looks almost stunned, "Wait... Hold up. Not _the_ Vincent Keller? Of Keller Enterprises Holdings?"

Vincent gives him a polite smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

"Wow, is there anything I can get you, Mr. Keller?"

"Catherine has it covered, Mr. Bishop. She's been very attentive." His expression is impassive, but his words... it's like he's saying something else entirely.

"Cool." Joe responds. "Catch you later, Cat?"

"Sure, Joe." I nod, faking a smile. I watch him disappear toward the stockroom. I fix my gaze back towards Vincent, "Anything else, Mr. Keller?"

"Just these items." His tone is clipped and cool. _Damn, did I offend him? _Taking a deep breath, I turn and head for the register. _What is his problem?_

I ring up the rope, coveralls, masking tape, and cable ties and sigh, "That will be forty-three dollars, please." I glance up at Keller, and I wish I hadn't. He's watching me very closely... intently. It's unnerving to my very core.

"Would you like a bag?" I ask as I take his credit card.

"Please, Catherine." His tongue caresses my name, and my heart once again is frantic. I can hardly breathe!

I quickly, yet professionally place the items into a plastic bag.

"You'll call me if you want me to do the photo shoot?" He's all about business once more. I nod, rendered speechless as I hand back his credit card and the bag of purchased items. I sigh, looking back up into his eyes.

"Good. Until tomorrow, perhaps." He turns to leave, then pauses. He looks back up at me, with a ghost of a smile, "Oh, and Catherine?"

"Yes?" I sound desperate now and all I want to do is slap myself.

"I'm glad Miss Vargas couldn't do the interview." He smiles, and strides away and out of the store, slinging the plastic bag over his shoulder, and leaving me a quivering mass of raging female hormones. I spend several minutes staring at the closed door through which he's just left before I return to planet Earth.

_Okay, I like him..._ There, I admitted it to myself. I can't hide from my feelings anymore. I've never, NEVER, felt this way before. I find him attractive, _VERY _fucking attractive! But it's a lost cause, for God's sake. And I find myself sighing with bittersweet regret. I bite my lip in anticipation that tomorrow, if I find a photographer, I'll be able to admire him again. I need to phone Tess immediately and organize this photo shoot, and fast!

* * *

><p><strong>**Okay, so the process is going to be a little slow...actually its going to be really slow lol. For those who are familiar with FSOG, you already know how the story goes. For those who haven't, well it's getting closer, just be patient with me lol. Anyways, I hope you liked it. Thanks for all of your lovely reviews!**<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*WARNING:<strong>** The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, ****graphic sexual content, and DOM/SUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*Extra:<strong>** I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: WOW! Yal are like super amazing! I'm enjoying yal's reviews because most of you haven't read 50 Shades before lol. This is exactly how the original story goes by the way hehe. I mainly changed the characters is all lol. Anyways, I will warn you that this story will be EXTREMELY long. I'll add or take away as I go. Enjoy Ch.3!)**

_Italics are for Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 3-<strong>_

"But what was he doing at Clayton's?" Her curiosity pours through the phone after I gave her the news about the photo shoot. Tess was beyond thrilled... and I must admit, I was too.

"He was in the area." I said casually while in the stock room.

"I think that is one huge coincidence, Cat. You don't think he was there to see you?"

My heart lurches at the idea, but its a joy that is short-lived. In reality, he was here only on business.

"He was visiting the farming division of WSU. He's funding some research." I mutter into the phone.

"Ah, yes. He's given the department a $2.5 million grant."

_Jesus!_

"How do you know this?" I ask in full curiosity.

"Cat, I'm a journalist and I've written a profile about Mr. Keller. It's my job to know this information."

"Okay, Carla Bernstein, keep your hair on. So do you want these photo's or not?"

"Of course I do. I still can't believe you got him to agree to it. The next question is, who is going to take the photos? And of course, where?"

"We could ask _him_ where. He says he's staying in the area."

"You can contact him?" Tess asks. She sounds surprised.

"I uhm...I have his cell number."

Tess gasps. "The richest, most elusive, most enigmatic bachelor in Washington State just gave you his cell number?!"

"Er... Yes."

"CATHERINE! He totally likes you! There is absolutely NO doubt about that."

"Tess, he's just trying to be nice." But even as I say the words, I know it's not true. Vincent Keller doesn't do nice. He does polite, maybe. But definitely not nice. My scalp prickles as the thought that maybe he really does like me comes to mind. But I shake that thought almost immediately.

"I have no idea who we'll get to do the shoot. Levi, our regular photographer, can't. He's home in Idaho Falls for the weekend. He'll be pretty pissed that he missed out on such a huge opportunity with Mr. Keller."

"Well... what about Patrick?" I ask.

"Great idea, Cat! You ask him... he'll do just about anything for you. Then call Keller and find out where he wants us to meet." Tess is irritatingly cavalier about Patrick.

"I think _you_ should cal him." I hiss.

"Who? Patrick?" Tess scoffs.

"No, Keller."

"Catherine, Catherine, Catherine... You're the one with the relationship."

"Relationship?!" I squeak, my voice reaching several octaves, "I barely even know the guy, Tess."

"At least you've met him," she says bitterly, "and it looks like he wants to know you better. Cat, just call him." she snaps and I sigh in frustration. I swear Tess can be so bossy sometimes. It's aggravating! I frown and stick my tongue out at my phone. _The phone has some great benefits after-all._

Soon after I hang up with Tess, I call Patrick, which instantly goes to voice mail. I leave a brief message and turn to run into Joe.

"We're kind of busy out there, Cat." he says without acrimony.

"Yeah, uhm... Sorry about that." I mutter, turning to leave.

"So, how come you know Vincent Keller?" he asks before I make a full leave. I turn on my heels, facing Joe as I smile shyly, "I had to interview him for our student newspaper. Tess wasn't well, so she sent me." I shrug, trying to sound casual.

"Vincent Keller in Clayton's. Go figure!" Joe snorts, amazed and amused. He shakes his head as if to clear it, "Anyways, you wanna grab a drink or something this evening?"

Ah... the lovely 'date' question. How did I not see this coming? Joe normally tries to get me to go out on a date with him when he's back home, but I always find a way to say no. I've never considered it to be appropriate to date the boss' cousin... or any of the boss' family members, period. Joe is cute in a wholesome boy-next-door kind of way, but he's no literary hero, not by a long shot. _Is Vincent? _I hear my subconscious ask. But I honestly don't have an answer for that.

"Don't you have a family dinner or something for your brother?"

"That's actually tomorrow." he smiles.

I sigh, slightly smiling, "Maybe some other time, Joe. I need to study tonight. I have my finals next week."

"Cat," he breathes, "One of these days you'll say yes." He smiles even bigger as I finally escape for the store floor.

* * *

><p>"But I do places, Cat. Not people!" Patrick groans.<p>

"Please, Patrick?" I beg, pacing the living room floor of my apartment.

"Give me that phone!" Tess grabs the phone from me, tossing her silken light golden-brown hair over her shoulder, "Listen here, Patrick Franco... If you want our newspaper to cover the opening of your show, you'll do this shoot for us tomorrow, capiche?!" Tess can be awesomely tough.

"Good! Cat will call back with the location and the call time. We'll see you tomorrow." Tess snaps my cell phone off, looking at me with a huge smile, "Sorted. Now all we need to do now is decide where and when. Call him... Call Mr. Keller." she demands, handing me my phone. My stomach twists as I hesitate.

"Call Keller, NOW!" she hisses and I scowl at her.

I dial the number and take a deep breath as I wait for him to answer. He answers after the second ring, "Keller."

"Er... Mr. Keller? It's Catherine Chandler." I don't even recognize my own voice, I'm so nervous.

"Miss Chandler. How nice to hear from you." His voice has changed. He seems surprised that I called... I think... and he sounds so... warm – _seductive_ even. My breath hitches as I scramble for the words I want to say and fail miserably. I flush and realize that Tess Vargas is staring at me, puzzled.

"Uhm... we'd like to go ahead with the photo shoot for the article." _Breathe Catherine, breathe. _My lungs drag in a hasty breath, "Tomorrow, if that's okay. Where would be convenient for you, sir?"

I can almost hear his smile through the phone, "I'm staying at the Heathman in Portland. Shall we say nine-thirty tomorrow morning?" he asks.

"Okay, we'll see you there." My insides are officially gushing, and breathy... like a child almost, filled with excitement. _I get to see Vincent Keller again! Yes!_

"I look forward to it, Miss Chandler." he says, oh so deeply... sensually. It fills like my insides are going to burst! I can sense a wicked grin on his face with gleaming eyes. _How can he make those seven words hold so much tantalizing promise? _I hang up and release the huge breath I had held for the entire phone call. Then it hits me like a ton of bricks that Tess is still standing in the room.

My mouth gapes open as I turn to face her. Her smile is from ear to ear, "Catherine Elizabeth Chandler. You like him! I've never seen or heard you so...so...affected by anyone before. You're actually blushing."

"Oh, Tess. You know I blush all the time. It's an occupational hazard with me. Don't be ridiculous!" I snap. She blinks at me with surprise... I very rarely have hissy fits, so beware if I do, "I just find him... intimidating, that's all!"

"Heathman, that figures." Tess mutters, changing the subject. "I'll give the manager a call and negotiate a space for the shoot." she adds.

"And I will make supper. Then I need to study." I can't hide my irritation with Tess as I open one the cupboards to start supper.

* * *

><p>That night, I'm completely restless. I tossed and turned most of the night.<p>

Every time my eyes close, I dream of smokey, milk chocolate brown eyes, coveralls, long legs, long fingers, and dark, _dark _unexplored places.

I wake twice in the night, my heart pounding against my chest. _Oh, I'm going to look just fabulous tomorrow with so little sleep. _I scold myself. I punch my pillow and try once again to settle.

* * *

><p>The Heathman is nestled in the heart of downtown Portland. It's impressive brown-stone edifice was completed just in time for the crash of the late 1920s. Patrick, Ian, and I are traveling in Wanda, my Beetle, and Tess is in her CLK since we all can't fit in my car. Ian is Patrick's friend and gopher, here to help out with the lighting. Tess has managed to acquire the use of a room at the Heathman free of charge for the morning in exchange for a credit in the article. When she explains at reception that we're here to photograph Vincent Keller, CEO Keller Enterprises Holdings, we are instantly upgraded to a suite. However, Mr. Keller is already occupying the largest suites in the building.<p>

It's nine and we have half an hour to set up. Tess is in full flow, "Patrick, I think we'll shoot against that wall, do you agree?" She doesn't wait for his reply, "Ian, clear the chairs. Cat, could you ask housekeeping to bring up some refreshments? And let Keller know where we are."

_Yes Mistress! _Ugh! She is so domineering. I roll my eyes but do as I'm told.

Half an hour later, Vincent Keller walks into our suite.

_Holy Crap! _He's wearing a white shirt, open at the collar, and gray flannel pants that hang from his hips. His unruly, brown hair is still damp from a shower. My mouth goes dry just looking at him... he's so fucking _hot!_ Keller is followed into the suite by a man in his mid-thirties, all buzz-cut and stubble in a sharp dark suit and tie, who stands silently in the corner. His hazel eyes watch us impassively.

"Miss Chandler, we meet again." Keller extends his hand, and I shake it, blinking rapidly. _Oh my! _He really is quite... As I touch his hand, I'm aware of that delicious current running right through me, setting me on fire.

"Mr. Keller, this is Tess Vargas." I mutter, waving my hand toward Tess, who comes forward, looking him squarely in the eye.

"The tenacious Miss Vargas. How do you do?" He grins, looking genuinely amused, "I trust you're feeling better? Catherine said that you were unwell last week."

"I'm fine, thank you, Mr. Keller." She shakes his hand firmly without batting an eyelid. I remind myself that Tess has been to the best private schools in Washington. Her family has money, after-all, and she's grown up confident and sure of her place in the world. She doesn't take any crap from any body, and I must admit that I'm in awe of her.

"Thank you for taking the time to do this." She continues, giving him a polite, professional smile.

"It's all a pleasure, Miss Vargas." he answers Tess, turning his gaze on me. I flush again. _Damn it!_

"This is Patrick Franco, our photographer." I say, grinning at Patrick, who smiles with affection back at me. His eyes cool when he looks from me to Keller.

"Mr. Keller." Patrick nods.

"Mr. Franco." Keller's expression changes, too, as he appraises Patrick.

"Where would you like me?" Keller asks him. His tone sounds vaguely threatening. But Tess is not about to let Patrick run the show.

"Mr. Keller, if you could sit here, please? Be careful of the lighting cables. And then we'll do a few standing too." Tess directs him to a chair set up against the wall.

Ian switches on the lights, momentarily blinding Keller, and mutters an apology. Ian and I stand back, and Patrick proceeds to nap away. Patrick takes several hand-held photographs of Mr. Keller, asking him to turn this way, and that way, to move his arm then put it down again. Keller sits and poses, patiently and naturally, for about twenty minutes.

My wish has come true. _I can stand and admire Vincent from not so afar. _Twice our eyes lock, and I have to tear myself away from his chocolate gaze.

"Enough sitting." Tess wades in again. "Standing, Mr. Keller?" she asks.

He stands, and Ian scurries in to remove te chair. The shutter on Patrick's Nikon starts clicking again.

"I think we have enough." Patrick announces five minutes later.

"Great!" says Tess, "Thank you again, Mr. Keller." she shakes his hand, as does Patrick.

"I look forward to reading the article, Miss Vargas." Vincent murmurs and turns to me, standing by the door, "Will you walk with me, Miss Chandler?" he asks.

"Sure." I say completely thrown. I look up anxiously at Tess, who shrugs at me and Patrick is scowling behind her.

"Good day to you all." says Keller as he opens the door, standing aside to allow me to go out first.

_Holy Hell... what's this about? What does he want? _I pause in the hotel corridor, fidgeting with my hands nervously as Vincent emerges from the room, followed by Mr. Buzz Cut in his sharp suit.

"I'll call you, Sam." he murmurs to Buzz Cut. Sam wanders back down the corridor, and Keller turns his burning brown gaze at me. _Crap!... have I done something wrong?_

"I wondered if you would join me for coffee this morning." Vincent says.

My heart slams into my mouth. _A date? VINCENT KELLER IS ASKING ME ON A DATE?! _No, he's asking if I want coffee. _Maybe he thinks you haven't woken up yet, _my subconscious whines at me. I clear my throat, trying to control my breathing... and nerves!

"I have to drive everyone home." I mutter, apologetically twisting my hands and fingers in front of me.

"Sam!" he calls, making me jump. Sam heads in our direction almost instantly.

"Are they based at the university?" Keller asks, his voice soft and inquiring. I nod, too stunned to speak.

"Sam can take them. He's my driver. We have a large 4x4 here, so he'll be able to take the equipment, too."

"Mr. Keller?" Sam asks when he finally reaches us, giving nothing away.

"Please, can you drive the photographer, his assistant, and Miss Vargas back home?"

"Certainly, sir." Sam replies.

"There. Now can you join me for coffee?" Keller smiles as if it's a done deal.

I frown.

"Uhm...Mr. Keller, er...this really... look, Sam doesn't have to drive them home." I flash a brief look at Sam, who remains stoically impassive. "I'll swap vehicles with Tess, if you give me a moment." I continue.

Vincent smiles a dazzling, unguarded, natural, all-teeth-showing, glorious smile. _Oh my God!_

He opens the door for me to the suite so I can go in. I scoot around him to reenter the room, finding Tess in deep discussion with Patrick.

"Cat, I think he definitely likes you." she says with no preamble whatsoever. Patrick glares at me with disapproval. "But I don't trust him." she adds. I raise my hand up in the hope that she'll stop talking. By some miracle, she does.

"Tess, if you take Wanda, can I take your car?"

"Why?"

"Vincent Keller has asked me to go for coffee with him."

Her mouth pops open. _Speechless Tess! _I savor the moment. She grabs my arm and drags me to the bedroom that's off the living area of the suite, "Cat, there's something about him." her tone is full of worry, "He's gorgeous, I agree, but I think he's dangerous. Especially for someone like you."

"What do you mean, someone like me?" I demand in anger.

"An innocent like you, Cat. You know what I mean." She says a little irritated. I flush.

"Tess, it's just coffee. I'm starting my exams this week, and I need to study, so I won't be long."

She presses her lips together as if considering my request. Finally she fishes for her keys and hands them to me, and I hand her mine.

"I'll see you later, Cat. And don't be long or I'll send out a search and rescue."

"Thanks." I hug her.

I walk out of the suite to find Vincent Keller waiting, leaning up against the wall, looking like a male model in a pose for some magazine.

"Okay, let's do coffee." I murmur, flushing a beet red.

He grins, "After you, Miss Chandler." he stands up straight, holding his hand out for me to go first. I make my way down the corridor, my knees shaky, my stomach in knots and full of butterflies, and my heart is in my mouth, thumping a dramatic, uneven beat. _I am going to have coffee with Vincent Keller... and I hate coffee!_

* * *

><p>We walk together down the wide hotel corridor to the elevators. <em>What should I say to him? <em>My mind is suddenly paralyzed with apprehension. _What are we going to talk about? What on Earth do I have in common with him? _

His soft-warm voice startles me from my reverie, "How long have you known Tess Vargas?"

Oh, an easy question for starters.

"Since our freshmen year. She's a good friend."

"Hmmm." he replies noncommittaly. _What is he thinking?_

He presses the call button on the elevator and it rings almost immediately. The doors slide open, revealing a passionate embrace inside. Surprised and embarrassed, they jump apart, staring guiltily in every direction but ours. We step inside and Vincent pushes a button.

I'm struggling to maintain a straight face, so I glance down at my feet, my cheeks turning pink. I glance up through my eyelashes and notice Keller has a hint of smile on his lips, but it's very hard to tell. The young couple says nothing, and neither do we. We travel down to the first floor in embarrassed silence. There isn't even any elevator music to distract us.

The doors open and much to my surprise, Vincent takes my hand, clasping his long fingers around it. I feel the current run through me, and my already rapid heart beat accelerates even more. He leads me out of the elevator, and we hear the suppressed giggles of the young couple behind us. Vincent grins, "What is it about elevators?" he mutters.

He guides us out of the building and into the mild May weather. The sun is shining and the traffic is light. Keller turns a corner to the left, still holding my hand as we make it to a crosswalk. _I'm standing in the middle of the street and Vincent Keller is holding my hand!_

* * *

><p>We walk four blocks quietly before we reach the Portland Coffee House, where Keller releases me to hold the door open so I can step inside.<p>

"Why don't you choose a table while I get the drinks? What would you like?" he asks, polite as ever.

"I'll have, uhm... English Breakfast Tea, bag out."

He raises his eyebrows, "No coffee?"

"I'm not keen on coffee."

He smiles, "Okay, bag out tea. Sugar?"

For a moment I'm stunned, thinking it's an endearment, but fortunately my subconscious kicks in with pursed lips, _No, stupid...do you take sugar?_

"No thanks." I stare down at my knotted fingers.

"Anything to eat?"

"No, thank you." I shake my head, and he heads to the counter to order.

I swear I could watch him all day... he's tall, broad shouldered, and slim, and the way those pants hang from his hips... _Oh my! _Once or twice he runs his long, graceful fingers through his hair. _Hmm... I'd like to do that. _The thought comes unbidden into my mind, and my face flames. I bite my lip and stare down at my hands again, not liking where my thoughts are headed.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Vincent asks as he returns, startling me.

I go crimson. _I was just thinking about running my hands through your hair._ I shake my head. He's carrying a tray, which he sits down on the small, round, table top. He hands me a cup and saucer... the tag on the bag of tea reads **TWININGS ENGLISH BREAKFAST**, my favorite. He bought himself a blueberry muffin. Sitting the tray aside, he sits directly across from me. He looks so comfortable, so at ease with his body. I envy him.

Here's me, all gawky and uncoordinated, barely able to get from A to B without falling flat on my face.

"Your thoughts?" he asks again.

"This is my favorite tea." My voice is quiet, breathy. I simply can't believe I'm sitting opposite Vincent Keller in a coffee shop, in Portland. He frowns. He knows I'm hiding something. I pop the teabag in the teapot, and almost immediately fish it out. As I place the used teabag onto my saucer, he cocks his head to the side, gazing at me quizzically.

"I like my tea black and weak." I mutter as an explanation.

"I see. Is he your boyfriend?" he asks.

_Whoa...WHAT?!_

"Who?"

"The photographer. Patrick Franco."

I laugh, nervously but I must say I'm curious as to what gave him that impression.

"No. Patrick's a good friend of mine, that's all. Whay did you think he was my boyfriend?"

"The way you smiled at him, and he at you." His gaze holds mine. He's so unnerving! I want to look away but I'm caught...spellbound.

"He's more like family." I whisper, taking a sip of my tea.

He nods, seemingly satisfied with my response, and glances down at his blueberry muffin. His long fingers deftly peel back the paper, and I watch, fascinated.

"Do you want some?" he asks, and that amused, secret smile is back.

"No thanks." I frown and stare at my tea.

"And the boy I met yesterday, at the store. He's not your boyfrined?"

"No. Joe's just a friend. I told you that yesterday." This is getting silly. "Why do you ask?"

"You seem nervous around men."

_Holy shit! _That's kind of personal. _I'm just nervous when I'm around you, Vincent Keller._

"I find you intimidating." I murmur, flushing scarlet. I look down at my clasped hands and I can hear his sharp intake of breath.

"You should find me intimidating." He nods. I blink rapidly, looking back down at my hands as he continues, "You're very honest... Please, don't look down. I like to see your face."

Oh... I glance up at him, and he gives me an encouraging yet wry smile.

"It gives me some sort of clue what you might be thinking." he breathes. "You're a mystery, Miss Chandler."

_Mysterious? Me?!_

"There's nothing mysterious about me."

"I think you're very self-contained." he mutters.

_Am I?_ _Wow... how am I managing that? _This is bewildering. _Me? Self-contained? NO WAY!_

"Except when you blush, of course, which is often. I just wish I knew what you were blushing about." He pops a small piece of his muffin into his mouth and starts to chew it slowly, not taking his eyes off of me. And as if on cue, I blush again. _Crap!_

"Do you always make such personal observations, Mr. Keller?"

"I hadn't realized I was. Have I offended you?" he sounds surprised.

"No..." I mutter.

"Good."

"But you're very high-handed."

He raises an eyebrow, and if I'm not mistaken, he flushes slightly too, "I'm used to getting my own way, Catherine." he murmurs. "In all things."

"I don't doubt it. Why haven't you asked me to call you by your first name?" I'm surprised by my audacity.

"The only people who use my given name are my family and a few close friends. That's the way I like it."

Oh. So he doesn't find me to be in that category yet.

"Call me Vincent."

He's seriously a control freak! Part of me is thinking that it may have been better if Tess had made it to the interview rather than myself. I take another sip of my tea as Vincent pops another small bite of muffin into his mouth.

"Are you an only child?" he asks.

_Whoa... _he keeps changing direction.

"Yes."

"Tell me about your parents."

Why does he even want to know?

"My mom lives in Georgia with her new husband, Bob. My stepdad lives in Monestesano."

"Your father?"

"My father died when I was a baby."

"I'm sorry." he mutters lowly. And a fleeting, troubled look crosses his face.

"I don't remember him." I add.

"And your mother remarried?"

I snort, "You could say that."

He frowns at me, "You're not going to give much away, are you?" he says dryly, rubbing his chin as if in deep thought.

"Neither are you."

"You've already interviewed me once and I can recollect some quite probing questions then." he smirks.

_Great! _He remembers the 'gay' question. How on Earth will I ever live myself after that. I suppose I deserve this.

"My mom is wonderful. She's an incurable romantic. She's currently on her fourth husband." I say trying to forget about the stupid, embarrassing interview.

Vincent raises his eyebrows in surprise.

"I miss her." I continue, "She has Bob now. I just hope he can keep an eye on her and pick up the pieces when her harebrained schemes don't go as planned." I smile fondly. I haven't seen my mom in so long.

Vincent stares at me intently, taking occasional sips of his coffee. I really shouldn't keep looking at his mouth. It's insettling.

"Do you get along with your stepfather?"

"Of course. I grew up with him. He's the only father I know."

"And what's he like?"

"Thomas? He's... taciturn."

"That's it?" Keller asks, surprised.

I shrug. _What does this man expect? My life story?_

"Taciturn like his daughter." Keller prompts.

I refrain from rolling my eyes at him.

"He likes soccer... European soccer especially... and bowling and fly-fishing, and making furniture. He's a carpenter. Ex-army." I sigh.

"You lived with him?"

"Yes. My mom met Husband Number Three when I was fifteen. I stayed with Thomas."

He frowns as if he doesn't understand.

"You didn't want to live with your mom?" he asks.

_This really is none of his business!_

"Husband Number Three lived in Texas. My home was in Montesano. And... you know, my mom was newly married." I stop. My mom never talks about Husband Number Three. Where is Keller going with this? _Two can play this game!_

"Tell me about your parents." I ask.

He shrugs, "My dad's a lawyer, my mom is a pediatrician. They live in Seattle."

Oh... he's had an affluent upbringing. And I wonder about a successful couple who adopts three kids, and one of them turns into a beautiful man who takes on the business world and conquers it single-handed. What drove him to be that way? His folks must be proud.

"What do your siblings do?"

"JT's in construction, and my little sister is in Paris, studying cookery under some renowned French chef." His eyes closed with irritation. He must not like talking about his family, nor himself.

"I hear Paris is lovely." I try to change the subject.

"It's beautiful. Have you been?" he asks, his irritation forgotten as I had hoped.

"I've never left mainland USA." I smile.

"Would you like to go?"

"To Paris?!" I squeak. This has thrown me... who wouldn't want to go to Paris?! "Of course." I concede, "But it's England that I'd really like to visit."

He cocks his head to one side, running his index finger across his lower lip... _For the love of God, STOP IT!_

"Because?" he asks, amused, I think.

I blink rapidly. _Concentrate, Chandler!_

"It's the home of Shakespeare, Austen, the Bronte sisters, Thomas Hardy. I'd like to see the places that inspired those people to write such wonderful books."

All of this talk about literacy reminds me that I should be studying. I glance at my watch, "I'd better go. I have to study." I say, looking up into his eyes.

"For your exams?"

"Yes. They start Tuesday."

"Where's Miss Vargas' car?"

"In the hotel parking lot." I murmur.

"I'll walk you back then."

"Thank you for the tea, Mr. Keller."

He smiles his odd I've-got-a-whopping-big-secret smile.

"You're very welcome, Catherine. It's my pleasure. Come..." he commands, and holds his hand out to me. I take it, bemused, and follow him out of the coffee shop.

* * *

><p>We stroll back to the hotel, and I'd like to say it's in compassionable silence. He looks his usual cool, calm self and as for me? I'm desperately trying to gauge how our little coffee morning has gone. I feel like I've been interviewed for a job, but I'm not sure what for.<p>

"Do you always wear jeans?" he asks, startling me from our silent stroll.

"Mostly."

He nods and we're back at the intersection, across from the road to the hotel. My mind is reeling... _What an odd question. _And I'm aware that our time together is limited. This is it. This was it, and I've blown it completely, I know. Perhaps he has someone?

"Do you have a girlfriend?" I blurt out. _Holy Crap! What is wrong with me?!_

"No, Catherine. I don't do the girlfriend thing." he says softly.

_Oh!... What does that mean? _He's not gay. Oh, maybe he is! He must have lied to me in his interview. And for a moment, I think he's going to follow up with some explanation, some clue to this cryptic statement... but he doesn't.

_I have to go! _I have to go and try to reassemble my thoughts. I have to get away from him.

I walk forward, and trip, stumbling out in the middle of the road as a bicyclist comes charging in my direction.

"Shit, Cat!" Vincent cries, grabbing me by my waist and pulling me back and into his arms. He pauses for a moment as our connected gaze consumes us. _Oh my God, my body is pressed his against his!_ He smells of freshly laundered linen and some expensive body wash. _It's intoxicating! HELP ME JESUS!_

"Are you okay?" he asks as he keeps me held against him, protectively.

I can't speak. I simply nod, gazing into his eyes. Oh, I think he's going to kiss me.

_Kiss me DAMMIT! KISS ME!_

I find my gaze trial down to his mouth then back up into his golden brown orbs.

I didn't expect what was happening next. Vincent Keller truly took me by surprise with his words, "Catherine, you should steer clear of me. I'm not the man for you." he whispers and I can't help but feel this pain of rejection in my heart.

_Oh, Vincent Keller... what are you doing to me?!_

* * *

><p><em><strong>**Oh yeah! Ba-BAM! Lol. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed that. I changed this chapter a bit, but I hope the FSOG readers dont mind at all. O.O lol. Love you guys! I'm now going Christmas shopping ;)**<strong>_


	4. Chapter 4

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*WARNING:<strong>** The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, ****graphic sexual content, and DOM/SUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*Extra:<strong>** I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: I'm going to go ahead and write the rest of the chapters and start posting weekly. I don't have many readers so I thought this would be better? If you think I should post more than that, let me know lol. Anyways, here's chapter 4. Make note that things are about to get...HOT! ;) Just letting you know hehe!)**

_Italics are for Catherine's thoughts_

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 4-<strong>_

_What?! Where is this coming from?! How on Earth do you know what IS for me, Keller?!_

"Breathe, Catherine, breathe. I'm going to stand you up and let you go, alright?" he says quietly, and he gently pushes me away.

Adrenaline has completely consumed me from head to toe from the near miss of the bicyclist, the close proximity with Vincent, both leaving me wired and weak.

_NO! _My psyche screams as he releases me and pulls away, leaving me bereft. He still has his hands on my shoulders, keeping me at arms length, carefully watching my reaction I suppose. And the only thing I can think is that I wanted to be kissed... I made it pretty damned obvious, and yet he didn't do it. _Damn, I read the signs wrong! He doesn't want me..._

I have officially royally screwed up the coffee morning! _DAMMIT!_

"I've got this." I breathe, finding my voice finally. "Thank you." I add in a mutter. I feel absolutely humiliated right now! How could I have misread the situation between us so utterly? _Get away from him, NOW!_

"For what?" he asks with a frown. And I realize that he hasn't took his hands off of me yet. _I"M GOING TO DIE!_

"For saving me." I whisper.

"That idiot was riding the wrong way. I'm glad I was here. I shudder to think what could have happened to you. Do you want to come and sit in the hotel for a moment?" He says, releasing me. _Thank God!_

His hands are by his sides now and I'm standing in front of him, feeling like a complete moron.

With a shake I clear my head. I just...I just want to go! All my vague, unarticulated hopes have been dashed. He doesn't want me! _What was I thinking?! _I scold myself. _What would Vincent Keller want with you? _My subconscious mocks me. I wrap my arms around myself and turn to face the road and note with relief that the green man has appeared. I quickly make my way across, conscious that Keller is behind me. Outside the hotel, I turn briefly to face him, but I can't look him in the eye, "thanks for the tea and for doing the photo shoot." I murmur.

"Catherine... I..." He stops, and the anguish in his voice demands my attention, so I peer unwillingly up at him. His brown eyes are bleak as he runs his hand through his unruly hair. He looks torn, frustrated, his expression stark, all his careful control has evaporated.

"What Vincent?" I snap irritably after he says... nothing! I just want to go home! I need to take my fragile, wounded pride away and somehow nurse it back to health.

"Uhm... Good luck with your exams." he murmurs.

_What? Seriously? This is why he looks so desolate?!_ The big send-off is 'Good luck with your exams?!' _Wow...FUCKING wow!_

"Thanks." I can't disguise the sarcasm in my voice, "Good-bye, Mr. Keller. Have a great day." and I turn on my heels, vaguely pleased that I hadn't tripped yet, and without giving him a second glance, I disappear down the sidewalk toward the underground garage.

Once underneath the dark, cold concrete of the garage with its bleak flourescent light, I lean agaisnt the wall and put my head in my hands. _What was I thinking?..._

Unbidden and unwelcome tears pool in my eyes. _Why am I crying?..._

I sink to the ground, angry at myself for this senseless reaction. Drawing up my knees, I fold in on myself. I want to make myself as small as possible. Perhaps this nonsensical pain will be smaller the smaller I am. Placing my head on my knees, I let out the irrational tears fall unrestrained.

I am crying over the loss of something I never had! _How ridiculous! _Mourning something that never was...my dashed hopes, my dashed dreams, and my soured expectations.

I have never been on the receiving end of rejection... _Okay, so I was always the last one picked in teams for basketball or volleyball. _

But I understood that... running and doing something else at the same time like bouncing or throwing a ball is NOT my thing at all.

Romantically though? I've never put myself out there...EVER! A lifetime of insecurity... I'm too pale, too skinny, too scruffy, uncoordinated, my long list of faults is on-going and never ending. So I have always been the one to rebuff any would-be admirers. Well, there is that one guy in my chemistry class who liked me, but no one has ever sparked my interest... no one except Vincent Damn Keller! Maybe I should be kinder to the likes of Joe Bishop? Or even Patrick? Although I'm sure neither of them has been found sobbing alone in dark places. Perhaps I just need a good cry?

_Stop! Stop it now! _My subconscious is metaphorically screaming at the top of her lungs! _Get in the car, go home, do your studying... Forget Vincent Keller NOW! All self-pity ends here!_

I take a deep, steadying breath and stand up, sniffling. _Get it together, Chandler!_

I head for Tess' car and get in, wiping the evidence of my sobbing away. From this moment forth, I will no longer think about Vincent Keller again... _Never again!_

* * *

><p>Tess is sitting at the dining table when I arrive. Her welcoming smile fades when she sees me.<p>

"Cat, what's wrong?"

_Oh no... not the Tess Vargas Inquisition!_

I shake my head in a back-off-now-Vargas way... but I might as well be dealing with a blind, deaf mute!

"You've been crying." She has an exceptional gift for stating the damn obvious sometimes. "What did that bastard do to you?" she growls, standing up. _Jeez, she's scary looking right now..._

"Nothing, Tess." I whisper. That's actually the problem. The thought brings a wry smile to my face.

"Then why have you been crying? You never cry?" she says, her voice softening. Her eyes shine with concern. She puts her arms around me and hugs me. I need to say something just to get her to back off, "I was nearly knocked over by a cyclist." It's the best that I can do, but it's not fully a lie neither... and it distracts her momentarily from..._ him_.

"Jeez, Catherine. Are you okay? Were you hurt?" she holds me at arms length and does a quick look at me.

"No... Vincent saved me." I whisper, "But I was quite shaken."

"I'm not surprised. How was coffee? I know you hate coffee."

"I had tea. It was fine, nothing to report really. I don't know why he even asked me to go."

"He likes you, Cat." she drops her arms.

"Well, not anymore. I wont be seeing him again." Yes, I manage to sound matter-of-factly.

"Oh?"

_Damn it! She's intrigued. _

I head into the kitchen so that she can't see my face, "Yeah... he's a little out of my league, Tess." I say as dryly as I can manage.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, Tess, it's obvious!" I whirl around and face her as she stands in the kitchen doorway.

"Not to me." she says, "Okay, he's got more money than you, but then he has more money than most people in fucking America!"

"Tess, he's..." I shrug.

"Catherine! For Heaven's sake... how many times do I have to tell you? You're a total babe!" she interrupts me. _Oh no! She's off on tirade again..._

"Tess, please. I need to study." I cut her short.

She frowns, "Do you want to see the article? It's finished. Patrick took some great pictures." she whispers.

Do I really want a visual reminder of the beautiful Vincent-I-Don't-Want-You Keller?

"Sure." I magic a fake smile and stroll over to the lap-top. And there he is, staring back at me in black and white, staring at me and finding me lacking.

I pretend to read the article, but in reality, I'm meeting his steady gaze in the photo, searching for some clue as to why he's not the man for me... his own words to me.

And it's suddenly obvious...

He's too gloriously good-looking. We are poles apart and from two very different worlds. I have a vision of myself as Icarus flying too close to the sun and crashing and burning as a result. His words make sense now. He's truly not the man for me. This is what he meant, and it makes his rejection easier to accept... almost. I can live with this. I totally understand now.

"Very good, Tess." I manage. "I'm going to study." I am not going to think about him again... I silently vow to myself that Vincent Keller is no more... _Who am I kidding? He never was... WE never was!_

And I know now more than ever, than Vincent and I will never be...

* * *

><p>Once in bed, I try to sleep but find myself wide awake due to my thoughts. I keep coming back to the <em>I don't do the girlfriend thing<em> quote, and honestly, I'm angry that I didn't pounce on this information sooner, before I was in his arms, mentally begging him with everything of my being to kiss me. He'd said it there and then. He didn't want me as a girlfriend.

I turn onto my side. Idly, I wonder if perhaps he's celibate. I close my eyes and begin to drift. Maybe he's saving himself. _Well, not for you._ My sleepy subconscious has a final swipe at me before unleashing itself on my dreams.

And that night, I dream of brown eyes and leafy patterns in milk, and I'm running through dark places with eerie strip lighting, and I don't know if I'm running toward something, or away from it... it's just not clear.

* * *

><p><em><strong>One Week Later<strong>_

I put my pen down. _Finished, finally! _My exam is over. A Cheshire cat grin spreads over my face. It's probably the first time all week that I have smiled. It's Friday, and we shall be celebrating tonight... _really _celebrating. I might even get drunk! I've never been drunk before. I glance across the hall at Tess, and she's still scribbling furiously, five minutes to the finish. This is it, the end of my academic career. I shall never have to sit in rows of anxious, isolated students again!

Tess stops writing and puts her pen down. She glances across at me, and I catch her Cheshire cat smile too.

* * *

><p>We head back to our apartment together in her Mercedes, refusing to discuss our final paper. Tess is more concerned about what she's going to wear to the bar this evening. I am busily fishing around in my purse for my keys.<p>

"Hey, Cat. There's a package for you." Tess is standing on the steps up to the front door holding a brown paper parcel. _Odd..._

It's addressed to Miss Catherine Chandler and there's no sender's address or name. Perhaps it's from mom or Thomas, "It's probably from my folks." I say.

"Open it!" Tess shouts in excitement as she heads for the kitchen for our exams-are-finished-hurrah champagne.

I open the parcel, and inside I find a half leather box containing three seemingly identical old cloth-covered books in mint condition and a plain white card. Written on one side, in black ink in neat cursive handwriting, is:

"_Why didn't you tell me there was danger? Why didn't you warn me? Ladies know what to guard against, because they read novels that tell them of these tricks..."_

I recognize the quote right away from the book _Tess._ I am stunned by the coincidence as I've just spent three hours writing about the novel of Thomas Hardy in my final examination. Perhaps there is no coincidence... perhaps it's deliberate. I inspect the books closely, three volumes of _Tess of the d'Urbevilles._ I open the front cover of one of the books. Written in an old typeface on the front plate is:

"_London: Jack R. Olgood, McJIvaine and Co., __1891._

_Holy freaking SHIT! _They are first editions! They must be worth a fortune, and I know immediately who's sent them to me. Tess is at my shoulder gaing at the books. She picks up the card.

"First editions." I whisper.

"No." Tess' eyes are wide with disbelief, "Keller?"

I nod, "Can't think of anyone else."

"What does this card mean?"

"I have no idea. I think it's a warning... honestly, he keeps warning me off. I have no idea why. It's not like I'm beating his door down." I frown.

"I know you don't want to talk about him, Cat, but he's seriously into you. Warnings or not."

I haven't let myself dwell on Vincent Keller for the past week. _Okay, his brown eyes are still haunting my dreams, and I know it will take an eternity to expunge the feel of his arms around me __a__nd his wonderful fragrance from my brain. _But why has he sent me this? He told me that I wasn't for him.

"I've found one _Tess _first edition for sale in New York for fourteen thousand dollars. But yours look in much better condition. They must have cost him more." Tess is consulting her good friend Google.

"This quote... Tess says it to her mother after Alec d'Urberville has had his wicked way with her." I mumble, still in shock.

"I know." muses Tess. "What is he trying to say?"

"I don't know, and I don't care. I can't accept these from him. I'll send them back with an equally baffling quote from some obscure part of the book."

"The bit where Angel Clare says 'fuck off?'" Tess asks with a completely straight face. _Damn, she's serious._

"Yes, that bit." I giggle. I love Tess; she's loyal and supportive. I repack the books and leave them on the dining table. Tess hands me a glass of champagne.

"To the end of exams and our new life in Seattle." She grins.

"To the end of exams, our new life in Seattle, and excellent results." I say as we clink our glasses and drink.

* * *

><p>The bar is loud and hectic, and full of soon-to-be graduates, out to get trashed. Patrick joins us. He won't graduate for another year, but he's in the mood to party and gets us into the spirit of our newfound freedom by buying a pitcher of margaritas for us all. As I down my fifth glass, I know this is not a good idea on top of the champagne.<p>

"So what now, Cat?" Patrick shouts at me over the crowd.

"Tess and I are moving to Seattle. Tess' parents have bought a condo there for her."

"_Dios mio, _how the other half live. But you'll be back for my show?"

"Of course, Patrick. I wouldn't miss it for the world!" I smile, and he puts his arm around my waist and pulls me close.

"It means a lot to me that you'll be there, Catherine!" he whispers in my ear. "Another margarita?"

"Patrick Luis Franco... are you trying to get me drunk? Because I think that it's working." I giggle. "I think I'd better have a beer. I'll go get us a pitcher."

"More drink, Cat!" Tess bellows.

Tess has the constitution of an ox. She's got her arm around Levi, one of our fellow English students and her usual photographer on the student newspaper. He's given up taking photos of the drunkeness that surrounds him. He only has eyes for Tess.

She's all tiny camisole, tight jeans, and high heels, hair piled high with tendrils hanging down softly around her face, her usual stunning self. Me? I'm more of a Converse and T-shirt kind of girl, but I'm wearing my most flattering jeans. I move out of Patrick's hold and get up from our table.

_Whoa... Head spin..._

I have to grab the back of the chair. Tequila-based cocktails are not a good idea.

I make my way to the bar and decide I should visit the bathroom while I am on my feet. I stagger off through the waves of people and of course there is a line waiting outside of the restroom.

I sigh in frustration, but decide to wait it out. I reach for my phone to relieve the boredom of waiting, _Hmmm... Who did I call last? Was it Patrick? _

Before that, a number I don't recognize. _Oh, yes! Keller! _I think this is his number. I giggle. I have no idea what time it is; maybe I'll wake him. Perhaps he can tell me why he sent me the books, and about that cryptic message he sent with them. I suppress a drunken grin and hit the call button. He answers on the second ring, "Catherine?" he's surprised to hear from me. Well frankly, I'm surprised to even be calling him. _Wait... how in the hell does he know it's me?_

"Why did you send the books?" I slur at him.

"Catherine, are you okay? You sound strange." his voice is filled with concern.

"I'm not the strange one, you are." There... that told him! My courage is fuelled by alcohol.

"Catherine, have you been drinking?"

"What's it to you?"

"I'm... curious. Where are you?"

"In a bar." I hiss.

"Which bar?" he sounds exasperated.

"A bar in Portland."

"How are you getting home?"

"I'll find a way." this conversation is not going how I expected.

"Which bar are you in?" he sounds irritated now.

"Why did you send me the books, Vincent?"

"Catherine, where are you? Tell me now!" His tone is so... so dictatorial, his usual control freak! I imagine him as an old-time movie director wearing jodhpurs, holding an old-fashioned megaphone and a riding crop. The image makes me laugh out loud!

"You're so...domineering, Vincent." I giggle.

"Catherine, so help me... Where the fuck are you?"

_Wow! Vincent Keller just swore at me! _I giggle again, "I'm in Portland...'s a long way from Seattle."

"Where in Portland?"

"Good night, Vincent."

"Catherine!"

I hang up. Ha! Though he didn't tell me about the books. I frown. _Mission NOT accomplished!_

I really am quite drunk... my head swims uncomfortably as shuffle with the line. Well, the object of the exercise was to get drunk, and I sure have succeeded. This is what it's like... _Probably not an experience to be repeated. _The line has moved, and now it's my turn.

I stare blankly at the poster on the back of the toilet door the extols the virtues of safe sex.

_Holy crap! Did I just call Vincent Keller? SHIT!_

My phone rings and it makes me jump. I yelp in surprise.

"Hi." I bleat timidly in to the phone. I hadn't reckoned on this.

"I'm coming to get you." Vincent says and hangs up. Only Vincent Keller would sound so calm and so threatening at the same time.

_Double Shit!_

I pull my jeans up. My heart is thumping against my chest. _Coming to get me?! Oh no! I'm going to be sick... no... I'm fine._

Hang on, he's just messing with my head. I didn't tell him where I was. He can't find me here. Besides, it will take him hours to get here from Seattle, and we'll be long gone by then. _See? Nothing to worry about._

I wash my hands and check my face in the mirror. I look flushed and slightly unfocused. _Hmm... tequila!_

I wait at the bar for what feels like an eternity for the pitcher of beer and eventually return to the table.

"You've been gone so long." Tess scolds me. "Where were you?"

"I was in line for the restroom." I shoot back.

Patrick and Levi are having some heated debate about our local baseball team. Patrick pauses in his tirade to pour us all beers, and I take a long sip... Maybe even a chug.

"Tess, I think I'd better step outside and get some fresh air."

"cat, you are such a light-weight." she giggles.

"I'l be five minutes."

* * *

><p>I make my way through the crowd, yet again and out through the entrance of the bar. I'm beginning to feel quite nauseated, my head is spinning uncomfortably, and I'm a little unsteady on my feet. More unsteady than usual.<p>

I practically drink in the cool evening air in the parking lot and it makes me realize _how_ drunk I truly am. My vision has been affected, and I'm really seeing double of everything like in old reruns of _Tom and Jerry _cartoons. I think I'm going to be sick, literally! _Why did I allow myself to get this messed up?_

"Catherine." Patrick has joined me, "You okay?"

"I think I've just had a bit too much to drink." I smile weakly at him.

"Me, too." he murmurs, and his baby blues are regarding me intently. "Do you need a hand?" he asks and steps closer to me, putting his arm around me.

"Patrick, I'm okay. I've got this." I try to push him off of me, and fail miserably.

"Cat, please." he whispers, and now he's holding me in his arms, pulling me closer.

"Patrick, what are you doing?"

"You know I like you, Catherine, please." He has one hand at the small of my back holding me against him, the other at my chin tipping my head back. _Holy fuck!... He's going to kiss me!_

"No, Patrick... Stop...No!" I push him with all the strength that I have left from being drunk. It doesn't do any good though... Patrick is like a wall of hard muscle, and I can't shift him. His hand has slipped into my hair, and he's holding my head in place.

"Please, Catherine... _carino." _he whispers against my lips. His breath is soft and smells too sweet... of margaritas and beer that is. He gently trails kisses along my jaw, up to the side of my mouth. I feel panicky, drunk, and out of control. The feeling is suffocating!

"Patrick, no!" I plead. _I don't want this! __You are my friend, and I think I'm going to throw up!_

As he leans towards my mouth with his, somebody pushes Patrick off of me, "I think the lady said no." _Holy fucking shit! Vincent Keller... and he's here! How? _Patrick looks at me quizzically.

"Keller." Patrick says tersely. I glance anxiously up at Vincent. He's glowering at Patrick, and he's furious! _Crap! _My stomach heaves, and I double over, my body no longer able to tolerate the alcohol, and I vomit spectacularly on the ground.

"Ugh... _Dios mio, _Cat!" Patrick jumps back in disgust. Vincent grabs my hair and pulls it out of the line of fire and gently leads me to a raised flowerbed on the edge of the parking lot. I note, with deep gratitude, that it's in relative darkness.

"If you're going to throw up again, do it here. I'll hold you." Vincent says with one arm around my shoulders... the other is holding my hair in a makeshift ponytail down my back so it's off my face. I try awkwardly to push him away too, for I am just too pissed off at him at the moment. I fail, and vomit again... and again... and again. _Oh shit... how long is this going to last?! _Even when my stomach is empty and nothing is coming up, dry heaves rack my body. I vow silently that I'll never ever drink again!

My hands are resting on the brick wall of the flowerbed, barely holding me up. _I'm so exhausted now. _Vincent takes his hands off me and passes me a handkerchief. _CTG _is sewn into the fabric and automatically I ponder what the _T_ stands for in his name. I wipe my mouth, but can't bring myself to look at him. I'm swamped with shame, disgusted with myself. I wish the ground would just swallow me whole already!

Patrick is still hovering by the entrance to the bar, watching us. I groan and put my head in my hands. This has to be the single worse moment of my life! My head is still swimming as I try to remember a worse one... and I can only come up with Keller's rejection... and this is so... so many shades darker in terms of humiliation. I risk a peek at him. Vincent's staring down at me, his face composed, giving nothing away. Turning, I glance at Patrick and, like me, intimidated by Keller. I glare at him. I have a few choice words for my so-called friend, none of which I can repeat in front of Vincent Keller, CEO. _Cat, who are you kidding? He's just seen you hurl all over the ground and into the local flora. There's no disguising your lack of ladylike behavior._

"I'll...er...see you inside." Patrick mutters, but we both ignore him, and he slinks off back into the bar. I'm on my own with Keller now. _Double crap! What should I say to him? Apologize for the phone call!_

"I'm sorry." I whisper, staring at the handkerchief, which am furiously worrying with my fingers. _It's so soft._

"What are you sorry for, Catherine?"

_Damn it! He wants his damned pound of flesh!_

"The phone call, mainly. Being sick. Oh, the list is endless, Vincent." I murmur, feeling my face burn from blushing in embarrassment. _Please, please, can I die now?!_

"We've all been here, perhaps not quite as dramatically as you." he says dryly. "It's about knowing your limits, Catherine. I mean, I'm all for pushing limits, but really this is beyond the pale. Do you make a habit of this kind of behavior?"

_Who do you think you are, Keller? My daddy?_

And besides, it's not like I invited him here. He came on his own free-will!

"No," I say contritely, "I've never been drunk before and right about now... I have no desire to ever be again."

I just don't understand why he's here! I begin to feel faint. He notices my dizziness and grabs me before I fall and hoists me into his arms, holding me close to his chest like a child.

"Come on, I'll take you home." he murmurs.

"I need to tell Tess." _I'm dying! I'm in Vincent Keller's arms again!_

"My brother can tell her."

"What?!" _His brother?_

"My brother JT is talking to Miss Vargas."

"Oh?"_ I just don't understand..._

"He was with me when you called."

"In Seattle?"_ I'm so confused!_

"No, I'm staying at the Heathman."

_Still? Why?_

"How did you find me?" _Do tell Keller!_

"I tracked your cell phone, Catherine."

Oh, of course he did! Is that even legal? How is that possible? _Stalker!_

"Do you have a jacket or a purse?"

"Er... yes, I came with both. Vincent, please... I need to tell Tess. She'll worry." I plead. His mouth presses in a firm, hard line, and he sighs heavily, "If you must." he growls.

He sets me down and, taking my hand, leads me back into the bar. I feel so weak, still drunk, embarrassed, exhausted, mortified, and, on some strange level, absolutely off-the-charts thrilled that Vincent Keller is here. He's clutching my hand... such a confusing array of emotions. I'll need a t least a month to process them all.

It's noisy, crowded, and the music has started so there is a large crowd on the dance floor. Tess isn't at the table, and Patrick has disappeared. Levi looks lost and forlorn on his own.

"Where's Tess?" I shout above the noise at Levi.

"Dancing." he growls. I can tell he's mad. He's eyeing Vincent suspiciously. I struggle into my black jacket and place my small shoulder bag over my head so it sits at my hip. I'm ready to go once I've seen Tess.

I touch Vincent's arm and shout in his ear, "She's on the dance floor." brushing his hair with my nose, smelling his clean, fresh smell. All of those forbidden, unfamiliar feelings that I have tried to deny surface and run amok through my drained body. I flush, and somewhere deep, _very _deep, down my muscles clench deliciously.

He rolls his eyes at me and takes my hand yet again and leads me to the bar. He's served immediately, _no waiting for Mr. Control Freak Keller. _Does everything come so easily to him? I can't hear what he orders, the music is blazing to loudly. He hands me a glass of iced water, "Drink." he shouts his command at me.

I hesitate as I gaze at him, watching the strobe lights change him different colors. He's watching me intently. I take a tentative sip.

"All of it, Catherine." he shouts. _Jesus! So demanding!_

He runs his hand through his unruly hair. He looks so frustrated right now, even angry. What is his problem? Apart from a silly, drunk girl calling him in the middle of the night so he thinks she needs rescuing. And it turns out she does from her over-amorous friend. Then seeing her get violently ill at his feet. _Oh, Cat... Are you ever going to live this down?_

I sway a little, and he puts his hand on my shoulder to steady me. I do as I'm told and drink the whole glass. It makes me feel queasy. Taking the glass from me, he places it on the bar. I notice through a blur what he's wearing: a loose white linen shirt, snug jeans, black Converse sneakers, and a dark pinstriped jacket. His shirt is unbuttoned at the top. In my groggy frame of mind, he looks so yummy.

He takes my hand once more and leads me to the dance floor. _Shit! I don't dance._ He can sense my reluctance, and under the colored lights I see his amused, sardonic smile. He gives my hand a sharp tug, and I'm in his arms again, and he starts to move... taking me with him. _Boy can he dance!_ And I can't believe that I'm following him, step for step. Maybe it's because I'm drunk that I can keep up. He's holding me tight against him... my back pressed against his front... his body against mine. If he wasn't clutching me so tightly, I'm sure I would swoon at his feet. In the back of my mind, my mother's often-recited warning comes to me: _'Never trust a man who can dance.'_

He moves us through the crowded throng of dancers to the other side of the dance floor, and we are beside Tess and JT, Vincent's brother. The music is pounding away, loud and leery, outside and inside my head.

_Oh, no! Tess is making her moves. _She's dancing her ass off, and she only ever does that if she likes someone. _Really _likes someone. It means there'll be three of us for breakfast tomorrow morning. _Tess!_

Vincent leans over and shouts in JT's ear. I can't make out what exactly he says. JT is tall, with wide shoulders, curly short black hair, and light, wickedly gleaming eyes, signatured with a pair of black glasses. JT grins and pulls Tess in my inebriated state, I am shocked. She's only just met him. She nods at whatever JT says and grins at me and waves. Vincent propels us off the dance floor in double time.

But I never got to talk to Tess. Is she okay? I can see where things are heading for her and JT. _I need to do the safe-sex lecture to Tess. _In the back of my mind, I hope she reads one of the posters on the inside of the bathroom door. My thoughts crash through my brain, fighting the drunk, fuzzy feeling. It's so warm in here, so loud, so colorful...too bright!

My head begins to spin, _oh no! _

I feel the floor coming up to meet my face, or so it feels that way, and the last thing I hear before I pass out in Vincent Keller's arms is his harsh epithet, "Fuck!"

Everything goes dark...

* * *

><p><em><strong>**O.O the next chapter is one of my faves. Things are going to get better from here. Let me know what ya think... Reviews really help a lot! Thanks so much and I love you. Iris, to answer your question, yes my burn has fully recovered. I have a huge, ugly scar but hey, it could have been worse ;) thanks for asking darling! Lavonce, I love you! Lmao your reviews are truly apecial to me because you make me smile and thank you so much for thinking of me as your favorite writer lol! Thank you! Denise, YOU ARE MY BIGGEST FAN! You are like a sister from another mother my darling and I absolutely LOVE your feedback! Thank you sweetheart! Anyways, you know what to do!**<strong>_


	5. Chapter 5

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*WARNING:<strong>** The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, ****graphic sexual content, and DOM/SUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*Extra:<strong>** I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires. **

_Italics stand for Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 5-<strong>_

It's very quiet. The light is muted. I am comfortable and warm, in this bed. _Hmm..._ I open my eyes, and for a moment I'm tranquil and serene, enjoying the strange, unfamiliar surroundings. I have no idea where the hell I am at. The headboard behind me is in the shape of a massive sun. It's oddly familiar. The room is large and airy and plushly furnished in browns and golds and beiges. I have seen it before... I have been here before... But where is here?

_Shit!_

I'm in the Heathman Hotel... in a suite. I have stood in a room similar to the with Tess. This looks bigger. Then it hits me like a frate train, and the color in my face drains... I realize that I'm in Vincent Keller's suite... IN HIS FUCKING BED!

_How did I get here?_

Fractured memories of the night before slowly come back to haunt me. The drinking, _oh no, the drinking..._ the phone call, _oh no, the phone call... _the vomiting, _Oh God, the vomiting..._ Patrick and then Vincent. _NO! _I cringe inwardly. I don't remember coming here. I'm wearing my T-shirt, bra, and panties. No socks. No jeans. _Holy shit!_

I glance at the side table and see a glass of orange juice and two tablets. Advil, I assume. Control freak that Vincent is, he thinks of everything! I sit up and take the tablets. Actually, I don't feel that bad, probably much better than I deserve. The orange juice tastes divine. It's thirst-quinching and refreshing.

There's a knock on the door. My heart leaps into my throat, and I can't seem to find my voice. He opens the door anyway and strolls in.

_Ashfkj! OH MY GOD! He's been working out! _He's in gray sweatpants that hang, in that way, off his hips and a gray sleeveless T-shirt which is dark with sweat, like his hair. _Vincent Keller's sweat; the notion does odd things to me. _I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I feel like a two-year-old; if I close my eyes, then I'm not really here.

"Good morning, Catherine. How are you feeling?"

"Better than I deserve." I mumble.

I peek up at him as he places a shopping bag on a chair and grasps each end of the towel around his neck. He's staring at me, brown eyes dark, and as usual, I have no idea what he's thinking. _He hides his thoughts and feelings so well._

"How did I get here?" My voice is small, contrite.

He sits down on the edge of the bed. He's close enough for me to touch, for me to smell. _Oh my... sweat and body wash and Vincent._ It's a heady cocktail... so much better than a margarita, and now I can speak from experience.

"After you passed out, I didn't want to risk the leather upholstery in my car taking you all the way to your apartment. So I brought you here." he says phlegmetically.

"Did you put me to bed?"

"Yes." his face is impassive.

"Did I throw up again?" My voice is quieter.

"No."

"Did you undress me?" I whisper, nearly choking on my words.

"Yes." He quirks and eyebrow at me as I blush furiously.

"We didn't...?" I whisper, my mouth drying in mortified horror as I can't complete the question. I stare at my hands.

"Catherine, you were comatose. Necrophilia is not my thing. I like my women sentient and receptive." he says dryly.

"I'm so sorry." I mutter in embarrassment.

His mouth lifts slightly in a wry smile, "It was a very diverting evening. Not one that I'll forget in a while."

_Me neither! You took my clothes off for God's sake!_... And oh, he's laughing at me too, the bastard! I didn't ask him to come and get me. Somehow I've been made to feel like the villian of the piece.

"You didn't have to track me down with whatever James Bond gadgetry you're developing for the highest bidder." I snap. He stops laughing, staring at me, surprised. And if I'm not mistaken, a little wounded too.

"First of all, the technology to track cell phones is available over the Internet. Secondly, my company does not invest or manufacture any kind of surveillance devices. And third, if I hadn't come to get you, you'd probably be waking up in the photographer's bed, and from what I can remember, you weren't overly enthused about him pressing his suit." he says acidly.

_Pressing his suit! _I glance up at Vincent. He's glaring at me, eyes blazing, aggrieved. I try to bite my lip, but fail to repress my giggle, "Which medieval chronicle did you escape from? You sound like a courtly knight."

His mood visibly shifts. His eyes soften and his expression warms, and there's a trace of a smile on his lips, "Catherine, I don't think so. Dark knight, maybe." His smile is sardonic, and he shakes his head, "Did you eat last night?" his tone is accusatory. I shake my head. _What major transgression have I committed now?_ His jaw clenches, but his face remains impassive.

"You need to eat. That's why you were so ill. Honestly, it's drinking rule number one." he runs his hand through his hair, and I know it's because he's exasperated.

"Are you going to continue to scold me?" I scoff.

"Is that what I'm doing?"

"I think so. Yes!" _Control Freak!_

"You're lucky I'm just scolding you."

_Lucky?! Is he serious?!_

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if you were mine, you wouldn't be able to sit down for a week after the stunt you pulled yesterday. You didn't eat, you got drunk, you put yourself at risk." He closes his eyes, dread etched briefly on his face, and he shudders. When he opens his eyes, he glares at me, "I hate to think of what could have happened to you, Catherine."

I scowl back at him. _What is his problem? What's it to him? If I was his... Well, I'm not! _Though maybe part of me would like to be. The thought pierces through the the irritation I feel at his high-handed words. I flush at the waywardness of my subconscious... she's doing her happy dance in a bright red hula skirt at the thought of being _his._

"I would have been fine. I was with Tess."

"And the photographer?" he snaps at me.

_Hmmm, young Patrick. _I'll have to face him eventually.

"Patrick was just out of line."

"Well, next time he gets out of line, maybe someone should teach him some manners."

"You are quite the disciplinarian." I hiss.

"Oh, Catherine... You have no idea." His eyes narrow, and then he grins wickedly. It's disarming. "I'm going to take a shower. Unless you'd like to shower first?" He asks, cocking his head to one side, still grinning.

My heartbeat spikes, and my medulla oblongata has neglected to fire any synapses to make me breathe. His grin widens, and he reaches over and runs his thumb down my cheek and across my lower lip, "Breathe, Catherine." he whispers then stands back up, "Breakfast will be here in fifteen minutes. You must be famished." He heads into the bathroom and closes the door.

I release the breath I had been holding in. _Why is he so damned attractive? _Right now I want to go and join him in the shower. I have never felt this way about anyone before. My hormones are racing and my skin tingles where his thumb traced over my face and lower lip. I'm squirming with a needy, achy... discomfort. I don't understand this reaction. _Hmm... Desire! _This is desire. Desire is what it feels like to me.

* * *

><p>I lie back onto the soft feather-filled pillows. <em>If you were mine. <em>

Oh, my! What would I do to be his? He's the only man who has ever set the blood racing through my body. Yet he's so antagonizing, too; he's difficult, complicated, and confusing. One minute he rebuffs me, the next he sends me fourteen-thousand-dollar books, then he tracks me like a stalker! And for all of that, I have spent the night in his hotel suite, and I feel safe here... protected. He cares enough about me to come and rescue me from some mistakenly perceived danger.

He's not a dark knight at all but a white knight in shining, dazzling armor... a classic romantic hero... Sir Gawain or Sir Lancelot.

I scramble out of his bed frantically searching for my jeans. He emerges from the bathroom wet and glistening from the shower, still unshaven, with just a towel around his waist, and there am I... all bare legs and awkward gawkiness. He's surprised to see me out of bed, "If you're looking for your jeans, I've sent them to the laundry." His gaze is dark, "They were spattered with your vomit."

"Oh..." I flush scarlet. _Why, oh why does he catch me off balance?_

"I sent _Sam_ out for another pair and some shoes. They're in the bag on the chair."

_Clean clothes? What an unexpected bonus!_

"Uhm... I'll have a shower now." I mutter, "Thanks." I add. I mean seriously, what else can I say? I grab the bag and dart into the bathroom away from the unnerving proximity of naked Vincent and his towel. _Dear, God! _Michelangelo's _David_ has nothing on him.

* * *

><p>The bathroom is all hot, and steamy. I strip off my clothes and quickly clamber into the shower, anxious to be under the cleansing stream of water. It cascades over me, and I hold up my face into the welcoming torrent. I want Vincent Keller... and I want him badly! Simple fact!<p>

For the first time in my life, I want to go to bed with a man. I want to feel his hands and his mouth on me. He said he likes his women sentient. _He's probably not celibate then. _But he's not made a pass at me, unlike Joe or Patrick. I don't understand. Does he want me? He wouldn't kiss me last week. Am I repellant to him? And yet I'm here and he brought me here! I just don't know what his game is. What's he thinking? _You've slept in his bed all night, and he's not touched you, Catherine. You do the math. _My subconscious has reared her ugly, snide head. I ignore her.

I reach for the body wash and it smells of him. It's a delicious smell. I rub it all over myself, fantasizing that it's him... him rubbing this heavenly scented soap into my body, across my breasts, over my stomach, between my thighs with his long-fingered hands. _Oh God! _My heartbeat picks up again. This feels so... _soooo _good!

"Breakfast is here." He knocks on the door, startling me.

"O-okay." I stutter as I'm yanked cruelly out of my erotic day-dream.

I'm relieved to find the bedroom empty. I dress, towel drying my hair and search for my purse. It's not in here... _Shit!_

* * *

><p>Taking another deep breath, I step out into the living area of the suite. It's huge. Overstuffed couches and soft cushions, an opulent, plush seating area, an elaborate coffee table with a stack of large, glossy books, a study area with the latest-generation iMac, and an enormous plasma screen TV on the wall. Vincent is sitting at the dining table on the other side of the room reading a newspaper. It's the size of a tennis court or something, not that I play tennis, though I have watched Tess a few times. <em>Tess!<em>

"Crap, Tess!" I croak. Vincent peers up at me.

"She knows you're here and still alive. I texted JT." he says with just a trace of humor. He stares at me imperiously. He's wearing a white linen shirt, collar and cuffs undone.

"Sit." he commands, pointing to a place at the table. I make my way across the room and sit down opposite him as I've been directed. The table is laden with food.

"I didn't know what you liked, so I ordered a selection from the breakfast menu." He gives me a crooked, apologetic smile.

"That's very profligate of you." I murmur, bewildered by the choice, though I am hungry.

"Yes, it is." He sounds guilty.

I opt for pancakes, maple syrup, scrambled eggs, and bacon. Vicnent tries to hide a smile as he returns to his egg white omelet. The food is delicious.

"Tea?" he asks.

"Yes, please."

He passes me a small teapot of hot water and on the saucer is a _Twinings English Breakfast_ tea bag. _Jeez, he remembers how I like my tea._

"Your hair's very damp." he scolds.

"I couldn't find the hair dryer." I mutter, embarrassed. Not that I looked.

Vincent's mouth presses into a hard line, but he doesn't say anything.

"Thank you for the clothes."

"It's a pleasure, Catherine. That color suits you."

I blush and stare down at my fingers.

"You know, you really should learn to take a compliment." His tone is castigating.

"I should give you some money for these clothes."

He glances at me as if I have offended him on some level. I hurry on, "You've already given me the books, which, of course, I can't accept. But these clothes... please let me pay you back." I smile tentatively at him.

"Catherine, trust me, I can afford it."

"That's not the point. Why should you buy these for me?"

"Because I can." His eyes flash with a wicked gleam.

"Just because you can doesn't mean that you should." I reply quietly as he arches an eyebrow at me, his eyes twinkling, and suddenly I feel that we're talking about something else, but I don't know what it is. Which reminds me...

"Why did you send me the books, Vincent?" My voice is soft. He puts down his cultery and regards me intently, his eyes burning with some unfathomable emotion. _Holy crap!... _My mouth dries.

"Well, when you were nearly run over by the cyclist, and I was holding you and you were looking up at me, all 'kiss me, kiss me, Vincent'"... he pauses and shrugs, "I felt I owed you an apology and a warning." He runs his hand through his hair, "Catherine, I'm not a hearts and flowers kind of man... I don't do romance. My tastes are... _very_ singular. You should steer clear of me." He closes his eyes as if in defeat, "There's something about you though, and I'm finding it impossible to stay away. But I think you've figured that out already." he adds.

My appetite suddenly vanishes. _He can't stay away?! DEAD!_

"Then don't." I whisper.

He gasps, his eyes wide, "You don't know what you're saying."

"Enlighten me, then."

We sit gazing at each other, neither of us touching our food.

"You're not celibate, then?" I breathe.

Amusement lights up his eyes, "No, Catherine... I'm not celibate." He pauses for this information to sink in, and I flush scarlet. The mouth-to-brain filter is broken again. I can't believe I've just said that out loud.

"What are your plans for the next few days?" he asks. His voice low and deep.

"I'm working today, from midday. What time is it now?" I panic suddenly.

"It's just after ten; you've plenty of time. What about tomorrow?" He has his elbows on the table, and his chin is resting on his long fingers.

"Tess and I are going to start packing. We're moving to Seattle next weekend, and I'm working at Clayton's all this week."

"You have a place in Seattle already?" he asks.

"Yes."

"Where?"

_Figure it out with your gadgets, Stalking Control Freak!_

"I can't remember the address. It's in Pike Market District."

"Not far from me." He smiles, "So what are you going to do for work in Seattle?"

Where is he going with all of these questions? The Vincent Keller Inquisition is almost as annoying as the Tess Vargas Inquisition.

"I've applied for some internships. I'm waiting to hear."

"Have you applied to my company as I suggested?"

I flush... _Of course not! _"Uhm... no."

"And what's wrong with my company?"

"Your company? Or your _company_?" I smirk.

"Are you smirking at me, Miss Chandler?" He tilts his head to one side, and I think he looks amused, but it's hard to tell. I flush and look down... I swear I can't look him in the eye when he uses that tone of voice.

"I'd like to bite that lip." he whispers darkly.

I gasp, not realizing that I had been chewing on my lower lip again. _Cardiac Arrest over here! DYING!_ This has to be the sexiest thing anyone has ever said to me before. My heartbeat spikes, yet again.

"So why don't you?" I challenge quietly.

"Because I'm not going to touch you, Catherine... not until I have your written consent to do so." His lips hint a smile.

_WTF?!_

"What does that mean?"

"Exactly what I say." He sighs and shakes his head at me, amused but exasperated, too, "I need to show you, Catherine. What time do you finish work this evening?"

"About eight."

"Well, we could go to Seattle this evening or next Saturday for dinner at my place, and I'll acquaint you with the facts then. The choice is yours."

"Why can't you tell me now?"

"Because I'm enjoying my breakfast and your company. Once you're enlightened, you probably won't want to see me again."

What does that even mean?_ Don't lie to yourself... _my subconscious yells at me, _it'll have to be pretty damned bad to have you running for the hills._

"Tonight." I whisper.

He raises and eyebrow, "Just like Eve, you're so quick to eat from the tree of knowledge." He smirks.

"Are you smirking at me, Mr. Keller?" I ask sweetly. _Pompous ass!_

He narrows his eyes at me and picks up his BlackBerry. He presses one number, "Sam. I'm going to need _Charlie Tango."_

_Charlie Tango... Who's he?_

"From Portland at, say, twenty thirty... No, standby at Escala... All night."He grins.

_All night?!_

"Yes. On call tomorrow morning. I'll pilot from Portland to Seattle."

_Pilot?_

"Standby pilot from twenty-two thirty." He puts the phone down. No please or thank you...

"Do people always do what you tell them?"

"Usually, if they want to keep their jobs." he deadpans.

"And if they _don't _work for you?"

"Oh, I can be persuasive, Catherine. You should finish your breakfast. And then I'll drop you off at home. I'll pick you up at Clayton's at eight when you finish. We'll fly up to Seattle."

I blink at him, rapidly, "Fly?"

"Yes. I have a helicopter."

I gape at him. I have my second date with Vincent Oh-So-Mysterious Keller. From coffee... well tea, to helicopter rides. _Wow!_

"We'll go by helicopter to Seattle?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

He grins wickedly, "Because. I. Can... Finish your breakfast."

How can I eat now? I'm going to Seattle with Vincent Keller, and he wants to bite my lip... I squirm at the mere thought!

"Eat." he orders, "Catherine, I have an issue with wasted food... eat."

"I can't eat all of this." I gape at what's left on the table.

"Eat what's on your plate. If you'd eaten properly yesterday, you wouldn't be here, and I wouldn't be declaring my hand so soon." His mouth sets in a grim line. He looks angry.

I frown and return to my now cold food, without another word.

As I nearly finish, I became curious as to what the sleeping arrangement was last night, "Where did you sleep last night?"

"In my bed." he says simply, his gaze impassive again.

"Oh."

"Yes, it was quite a novelty for me too." He smiles.

"Not having... sex?" There, I finally said the damn word, blushing of course.

"No." he shakes his head and frowns, "Sleeping with someone."

* * *

><p>In his bedroom, I search through a series of chest of drawers and finally find the hair dryer. Using my fingers, I dry my hair the best that I can. When I've finished, I head into the bedroom. I want to brush my teeth. I eye Vincent's toothbrush. It would be like having him in my mouth. <em>Hmm... <em>Glancing guiltily over my shoulder at the door, I feel the bristles on the toothbrush. They are damp. He must have used it recently. Grabbing it quickly I squirt toothpaste and begin brushing my teeth. I feel so naughty right now for doing this. It's such a thrill.

Grabbing my clothing from yesterday, I put them into the shopping bag that Sam brought and head back for the living area to hunt for my bag and jacket. _Deep joy! _There is a hair tie in my bag. Vincent is watching me as I tie up my hair into a messy bun, his expression is unreadable. I feel his eyes follow me as I sit down and wait for him to finish. He's on his BlackBerry talking, "They want two?...How much will that cost?... Okay, and what safety measures do we have in place?... And they'll go via Suez?... How safe is Ben Suden?... And when do they arrive in Darfur?... Okay, let's do it. Keep me abreast of progress." He hangs up, gazing at me, "Ready to go?" he asks. I nod.

He slips on his pinstriped jacket, picks up his car keys, and heads for the door, "After you Miss Chandler." he murmurs, opening the door for me. I pause, fractionally too long, drinking in the sight of him.

* * *

><p>We walk silently down the corridor toward the elevator. As we wait, I peek up at him through my lashes, and he looks out of the corner of his eyes down at me. I smile, and his lips twitch.<p>

The elevator arrives, and we step in. We're alone this time. Suddenly, for some inexplicable reason, possibly our proximity in such a small spaced area, the atmosphere between us changes, charged with an electric, exhilarating anticipation. My breathing increases along with my heart rate. His head turns fractionally toward me, his eyes darkest slate. I bite my lip.

"Oh, fuck the paperwork!" he growls. He lunges at me, pushing me against the wall of the elevator. Before I know it, he's got both of my hands in one of his in a viselike grip above my head, and he's pinning me to the wall using his hips. _Holy shit! _His other hand grabs my hair and he yanks down, bringing my face up, and his lips are on mine. I moan into his mouth, giving his tongue an opening. He takes full advantage, his tongue expertly exploring my mouth. I have never been kissed like this.

My tongue tentatively strokes his and joins his in a slow, erotic dance that's all about touch and sensation, all bump and grind. He brings his hand up to grasp my chin and holds me in place. I'm helpless, my hands pinned, my face held, and his hips restraining me. His erection is against my belly. _Oh for the love of God! He wants me!_

Yes, he wants me! Vincent Keller, Greek God, wants _me_... and I want _him, _here... now! In the elevator!

"You. Are. So. Sweet." he murmurs each word a staccato.

The elevator stops, the doors open. He pushes away from me in the blink of an eye, leaving me hanging. Three business men in suits climb on, staring at us and smirking.

I glance up at him. He looks so cool and calm, like he's been doing the _Seattle Times _crossword. _How unfair! _Is he totally unaffected by my presence? He glances at me out of the corner of his eyes, and he gently blows out a deep breath. _Oh, he's affected alright... _and my inner goddess sways her hips in a victorious samba.

We still have one more floor to go.

"You brushed your teeth." he whispers, staring at me.

"I used your toothbrush."

His lips quirk up in a half smile, "Oh, Catherine Chandler, what am I going to do with you?"

_Oh, I could think of a lot of things, Vincent Keller._

The doors open at the first floor, and he takes my hand and pulls me out, "What is it about elevators?" he mutters, more to himself than to me as he strides across the lobby. I struggle to keep up with him because my wits have been thoroughly and royally scattered all over the floor and walls of elevator three in the Heathman Hotel.

_Oh my freaking God! VINCENT KELLER KISSED ME!_

* * *

><p><em><strong>**MWAHAHAHA! Okay, so I posted three chapters in one daynight. Going to take a break now lol. Love you guys!****_


	6. Chapter 6

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*WARNING:<strong>** The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, ****graphic sexual content, and DOM/SUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*Extra:<strong>** I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: Cold shower anyone? Lol I knew that you probably might. Just wait, it only gets hotter from here ;) ENJOY!)**

_Italics represent Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 6-<strong>_

Vincent opens the passenger-side door to the black Audi SUV, and I clamber in. _Damn, it's a beast of a car! _So far he hasn't mentioned the outburst of passion that exploded in the elevator between us. _Should I? _Should we talk about it or act like nothing happened? It hardly seems real that Vincent Keller had kissed me. My first proper no-holds-barred kiss. Oh, how amazing it was to feel his lips against mine... to taste his tongue. _Shut up Catherine! It's not helping to think about it!_

I touch my lips, swollen from his kiss. Oh, it definitely happened. I am now a changed woman and I so want this man desperately, and he wanted _me!_

I glance at him. Vincent is his usual polite, slightly distant self.

_How confusing!_

He starts the engine and reverses out of his space in the parking lot. He switches on the sound system. The car interior is filled with the sweetest, most magical music of two women singing. _Oh wow... _All of my senses are in disarray, so this is doubly affecting. It sends delicious shivers up my spine. Vincent pulls out onto Southwest Park Avenue, and he drives with easy, lazy confidence.

"What are we listening to?" I ask.

"It's 'The Flower Duet' by Delibes, from the opera _Lakme. _Do you like it?"

"Vincent, it's wonderful."

"It is, isn't it?" He grins, glancing at me. And for a fleeting moment, he seems his age: young, carefree, and heart-stoppingly beautiful. _Is this the key? Music? _I sit and listen to the angelic voices teasing and seducing me, "Can I hear that again?"

"Of course." Vincent pushes a button, and the music is caressing me once more. It's a gentle, slow, sweet, and sure assault on my aural senses.

"You like classical music?" I ask, hoping for a rare insight into his personal preferences.

"My taste is electric, Catherine... Everything from Thomas Tallis to the Kings of Leon. It all just depends on my mood. You?"

"Me too. Though I don't know who Thomas Tallis is."

He turns and gazes at me briefly before facing back towards the road, "I'll play it for you sometime. He's a sixteenth-century British composer. Tudor, church choral music." Vincent grins at me, "Sounds very esoteric, I know, but it's also magical."

He presses a button and the Kings of Leon start singing. _Hmm... This I know. "_Sex on Fire." I murmur and he smiles, keeping his eyes on the road. _How appropiate. _

The music is interrupted by the sound of a cell phone ringing over the sound of the radio. _Wow!_

"Keller." he snaps. He's so brusque.

"Mr. Keller, it's Welch here. I have the information you require." A rasping, disembodied voice comes overs the speakers.

"Good. E-mail it to me. Anything to add?"

"No, Sir."

He presses the button and the call ends, the music has fully come back. No good-bye or thanks, yet again. I'm so glad that I never seriously entertained the thought of working for him. I shudder at the very idea. He's just too controlling and cold with his employees. The music cuts off again for the phone.

"Keller."

"The NDA has been E-mailed to you, Mr. Keller." A woman's voice.

"Good. That's all, Andrea."

"Good day, sir."

He hangs up again, without saying good-bye or thank you. _Damn, rude ass! _The phone rings again. _Holy hell! Is this his life?... Constant nagging phone calls?_

"Keller." he snaps, irritated.

"Hi Vincent, d'you get laid?"

"Hello JT... I'm on speakerphone, and I'm not alone in the car." Vincent sighs.

"Who's with you?"

Vincent rolls his eyes, "Catherine Chandler."

"Hi, Cat!"

_Cat!_

"Hello, JT." I giggle.

"Heard a lot about you." JT murmurs huskily. Vincent frowns.

"Don't believe a word Tess says." Vincent sighs. JT laughs as Vincent continues, "I'm dropping Catherine off now." Vincent emphasizes my full name, "Shall I pick you up?" he continues.

"Sure."

"See you shortly." Vincent hangs up, and the music is back.

I sigh, "Why do you insist on calling me Catherine?"

"Because it's your name."

"I prefer Cat."

"Do you now?" he grins. Were almost at my apartment. It's not taken long at all.

"Catherine." Vincent muses with a grin. I scowl at him, but he ignores my expression.

"What happened in the elevator... it wont happen again, well, not unless it's premeditated."

Why wont he kiss me again? I pout at the thought. I don't understand. Honestly, his surname should be Cryptic, not Keller. He pulls up outside my duplex. I belatedly realize he's not asked me where I live... yet he knows? But then again, he sent the books; of course he knows where I live. What able, cell phone-tracking, helicopter-owning stalker wouldn't?

* * *

><p>He climbs out of the car, walking with easy, long-legged grace around to my side to open the door, ever the gentleman... except perhaps in rare, precious moments in elevators. I flush at the memory of his mouth on mine, and the thought that I'd been unable to touch him enters my mind. I wanted to run my fingers through his decadent, untidy hair, but I'd been unable to move my hands. I am completely, unbearably sexually frustrated!<p>

"I liked what happened in the elevator." I murmur as I climb out of the car. I'm not sure if I heard an audible gasp, but I choose to ignore it and head up the stairs to the front door.

Tess and JT are sitting at the dining table, both giving the I've-been-having-a-good-time-all-night grin. Vincent follows me into the living room and Tess eyes him suspiciously, "Hi, Cat." she leaps up to hug me, then holds me at arms length so she can examine me. She frowns and turns to Vincent, "Good morning, Vincent." she says, and her tone is a little hostile.

"Miss Vargas." he says in his stiff, formal way.

"Vincent, her name is Tess." JT grumbles.

"Tess." Vincent gives her a polite nod and glares at JT, who grins and rises to hug me, too.

"Hi, Cat." He smiles, his hazel eyes twinkling, and I like him immediately. He's obviously nothing like Vincent, but then again, they are adopted brothers.

"Hi, JT." I smile at him, and I'm aware that I'm biting my lip.

"JT, we'd better go." Vincent says mildly.

"Sure." He turns to Tess and pulls her into his arms and gives her a long, lingering kiss.

_Jeez! Get a room! _I stare at my feet, embarrassed. I glance uo at Vincent, and he's watching me intently. I narrow my eyes at him. _Why can't he kiss me like that? _JT continues to kiss Tess, sweeping her off her feet and dipping her in a dramatic hold so that her hair touches the ground as he kisses her hard.

"Laters, baby." JT grins.

Tess just melts. I've never seen her this happy before... the words _comely _and _compliant _come to mind. Compliant Tess. _Boy, JT must be really good. _Vincent rolls his eyes and stares down at me, his expression unreadable, although maybe he's mildly amused. He reaches and tucks a stray strand of my hair behind my ear. My breath hitches at the contact, and I lean my head into his fingers. His eyes soften, and he runs his thumb across my lower lip. My blood sears in my veins... and all too quickly, his touch is gone.

"Laters, baby." he murmurs, and I have to laugh because it's so unlike him. But even though I know he's being irreverent, the endearment tugs at something deep inside of me.

"I'll pick you up at eight." He says as he turns to leave, opening the front door and stepping out onto the porch. JT follows him to the car but turns and blows Tess another kiss, and I feel an unwelcome pang of jealousy.

"So, did you?" Tess asks as we watch them climb into the car and drive off, the burning curiosity evident in her voice.

"No." I snap irritably, hoping that will halt the questions. We head back into the apartment, "You obviously did though." I can't contain my envy. Tess always manages to ensnare men. She is irrisistable, beautiful, sexy, funny, forward... all the things that I'm not. But her answering grin is infectious.

"And I'm seeing him again this evening." She claps her hands together and jumps up and down like a small child. A happy Tess... _This is going to be interesting._

"Vincent is taking me to Seattle this evening." I breathe.

"Seattle?"

"Yes."

"Maybe you will _then_?"

"Yes... Perhaps." I smile.

"You like him, then?"

"Yes."

"Like him enough to..."

"YES! Tess, Jesus!" I laugh, embarrassed slightly at what she was fully about to ask. She raises her eyebrows, "Wow, Cat Chandler, finally falling for a man, and it's Vincent Keller... hot, sexy billionare."

"Oh yeah... It's all about the money. Let me tell ya about it." I smirk, and we both fall into a fit of hardcore laughter.

"Is that a new blouse?" she asks, and I let her have all the unexciting details about my night.

"Has he kissed you yet?" she asks as she makes coffee.

I blush.

"Once."

"Once?!" she scoffs.

I nod rather shamefaced, "He's very reserved."

She frowns, "That's odd."

"I don't think odd covers it, really."

"We need to make sure you're simply irresistible for this evening." she says with determination.

_Oh no!... This sounds like it will be time consuming, humiliating, and painful._

"I have to be at work in an hour." I deadpan, trying to get out of whatever it is she has planned.

"I can work with that time frame. Come on." Tess grabs my hand and I groan like a child as she drags me into her bedroom.

* * *

><p>The day drags at Clayton's even though we're busy. We've hit the summer season, so I have to spend two hours restocking the shelves once the shop is closed. It's mindless work, and it gives me too much time to think. I've not really had a chance all day.<p>

Under Tess' tireless and frankly intrusive instruction, my legs and underarms are shaved to perfection... not saying I never shaved before in my life, because I have... my eyebrows plucked, and I'm buffed all over. It has been a most unpleasant experience. But she assures me that this is what men expect these days. What else will he expect? I have to convince Tess that this is what I want to do. For some strange reason, she doesn't trust him, maybe because he's so stiff and formal. She says she can't put her finger on it, but I have promised to text her when I arrive in Seattle. I haven't told her about the helicopter; she's freak!

I also have the Patrick issue. He's left three voice mails, and seven missed calls on my cell. He's also called home twice. Tess has been very vague on where I have been. He'll figure it out eventually that she's really just covering up for me. I've decided that for now, I'm still not talking to him. I'm still pissed off at him.

Vincent had mentioned paperwork, and I don't know if he was joking or if I'm going to have to sign something. It's frustrating trying to figure it out. And on top of all the angst, I can barely contain my excitement or my nerves. _Tonight's the night! _After-all this time, am I _really _ready for this? I honestly don't see what he sees in me...

He's punctual, of course, and waiting for me when I leave Clayton's. He climbs out of the back of the Audi SUV to open the door and smiles warmly at me, "Good evening, Miss Chandler." he says.

"Mr. Keller." I nod politely to him as I climb into the backseat of the car. Sam is sitting in the driver's seat, "Hello, Sam." I say.

"Good evening, Miss Chandler." His voice is polite and professional. Vincent climbs in the other side and claps my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze that echoes through my body.

"How was work?" he asks.

"Very long." I reply, and my voice is husky, too low, and full of need.

"Yes, it's been a long day for me, too."

"What did you do?" I manage.

"I went hiking with JT." His thumb strkes my knuckles, back and forth, and my heart skips a beat as my breathing accelerates. _How does he do this to me?_ He's only touching a very small area of my body, and the hormones are flying.

The drive to the heliport is short, and before you know it, we arrive.

* * *

><p>Sam parks, climbs out, and opens the door for me. Vincent is beside me in an instant and takes me hand again.<p>

"Ready?" he asks. I nod and want to say, _For anything, _but I can't articulate the words as I'm too nervous, too excited.

"Sam." He nods curtly at his driver, and we head into the building, straight to a set of elevators. _Elevator! _The memory of our kiss this morning comes back to haunt me. I have thought of nothing else all day, daydreaming at the register at Clayton's. Twice Mr. Clayton had to shout my name to bring me back to Earth. To say I've been distracted would be the understatement of the year.

Vincent glances down at me, a slight smile on his lips. _Ha! He's thinking about it too!_

"It's only three floors." he says dryly, his eyes dancing with amusement. He's telepathic, surely. It's spooky.

I try to keep my face impassive as we enter the elevator. The doors close, and it's there, the weird electrical attraction crackling between us, enslaving me. I close my eyes in a vain attempt to ignore it, but my eyes burst open when he tightens his grip on my hand. Five seconds later the doors open onto the roof. There it is, a white helicopter with the name **KELLER ENTERPRISES HOLDINGS, INC. **written in blue with the company logo on the side. _Surely this is misuse of company property._

We walk inside a little office on the side where an old-timer sits behind a desk, "Here's your flight plan, Mr. Keller. All external checks are done. It's ready and waiting, sir. You're free to go."

"Thank you, James." Vincent smiles warmly at him._ Oh, someone deserving of the polite treatment from Vincent. Perhaps he's not an employee? _I stare at the old guy in awe.

"Let's go." Vincent breathes as he takes my hand, entertwining our fingers and leads us to the helicopter. It's much bigger up close... _Oh, who am I kidding? It's huge in general._

Vincent opens the door and directs me inside to one of the seats at the very front, "Sit. Don't touch anything." he orders as he climbs in behind me.

He shuts the door with a slam. I'm glad that the area is floodlit, otherwise I'd find it difficult to see inside the small cockpit. I sit down in my seat and Vincent crouches down beside me to strap me into the harness.

"You're secure, no escaping." he whispers in my ear, "Breathe, Catherine... just breathe." he adds softly. Reaching up, he caresses my cheek, running his long fingers down to my chin, which he grasps between his thumb and forefinger. He leans forward and plants a brief, chaste kiss, leaving me reeling, my insides clenching at the thrilling, unexpected touch of his lips.

"I like this harness." he whispers with a seductive grin.

_What?_

He sits down beside me and fastens himself into his harness, then checks the gauges, flipping on switches and buttons from the mind-boggling array of dials, lights, and switches.

"Put your cans on." he says pointing at the headphones in front of me. I pull them on, and the rotor blades start. They are deafening! He puts on his own pair of headphones and continues flipping various switches.

"I'm just going through all the preflight checks." Vincent's disembodied voice is in my ears through the headphones. I turn and grin at him, "Do you know what you're doing?" I ask. He turns and smiles at me, "I've been a fully qualified pilot for four years, Catherine. You're safe with me." He gives me a wolfish grin, "Well, while we're flying." he adds, and winks at me.

_Winking... Vincent!_

"Are you ready?" he asks.

I nod, wide-eyed. _Oh, God! I'm not sure I can do this!_

"Okay, tower. PDX, this is Charlie Tango Golf-Golf Echo Hotel, cleared for take-off. Please confirm, over."

_Dear God, his knowledge as a pilot is even sexy..._

"Charlie Tango... you are clear. PDX to call, proceed to one four thousand, heading zero one zero, over."

"Roger, tower, Charlie Tango set, over and out. Here we go." he adds to me, and the helicopter rises slowly and smoothly into the air.

* * *

><p>Portland disappears in front of us as we head into U.S. airspace, though my stomach remains firmly in Oregon. <em>Whoa! <em>All of the bright lights shrink until they are twinkling sweetly below us. It's like looking out from a fish bowl. Once we're higher, there really is nothing to see. It's pitch-black, not even the moon to shed any light on our journey. _How can he see where we're going?_

"Eerie, isn't it?" Vincent's voice is in my ears.

"How do you know you're going the right way?"

"Here." he points his long index finger at one of the gauges, and it shows an electronic compass, "This is an EC135 Euro-copter. One of the safest in its class. It's equipped for night flight." He glances and grins at me, "There's a helipad on top of the building where I live. That's where we're heading."

_Of course there's a helipad where you live. _I am so out of my league here.

He's concentrating hard, and he's continually glancing at the various dials in front of him. I drink in his features from beneath my lashes. He has a beautiful profile. Straight nose, square jawed... _I'd like to run my tongue along his jaw._ He hasn't shaved, and his stubble makes the prospect doubly tempting. _Hmm... I'd like to feel how rough it is beneath my tongue, my fingers, against me face._

"When you fly at night, you fly blind, so you have to trust the instrumentation." he says, interrupting me from my erotic thoughts.

"How long will the flight be?" I manage breathlessly. I wasn't thinking about sex at all... Nope, not at all. Not me.

"Less than an hour... the wind is in our favor."

_Hmm... less than an hour to Seattle... that's not bad at all. No wonder we're flying._

Which brings me to the thought of how I only have less than an hour to see the huge reveal. All the muscles clench, deep inside of my belly. I have a serious case of butterflies. They are flourishing in my stomach. _Holy shit! What has he got in store for me?_

"You okay, Catherine?" he murmurs.

"Yes." I sigh, my answer is short, clipped, and squeezed out through my nerves.

I think he smiles, but it's hard to tell in the darkness. Vincent flicks yet another switch.

"PDX, this is Charlie Tango now at one four thousand, over"

He exchanges information with air traffic control. It all sounds very professional to me. I think we're moving from Portland's airspace to Seattle International Airport's.

"Understood, Sea-Tac, standing by, over and out."

Vincent sighs as he looks up at me, "Look over there." He points to a small pinpoint of light in the far distance, "That's Seattle."

"Do you always impress women this way? 'Come and fly in my helicopter'?" I ask, genuinely interested.

"I've never brought a girl up here, Catherine. It's another first for me." His voice is quiet, very serious.

_Oh, that was an unexpected answer. Another first? Oh, the sleeping thing, perhaps?_

"Are you impressed, Miss Chandler?"

"I'm awed, Vincent."

He smiles, "Awed?" and for a brief moment, he's his age again.

I nod, "You're just so... competent."

"Why, thank you, Miss Chandler." he says politely. I think he's pleased, but I'm not sure.

We ride into the dark night in silence for a while. The bright spot that is Seattle is slowly getting bigger.

"Sea-Tac tower to Charlie Tango. Flight plan to Escala in place. Please proceed, and stand by. Over."

"This is Charlie Tango, understood, Sea-Tac. Standing by, over and out."

"You obviously enjoy this." I murmur.

"What?" he glances at me. He looks quizzical in the half light of the instruments.

"Flying." I reply.

"It requires control and concentration... how could I not love it? Though my favorite is soaring."

"Soaring?"

"Yeah. Gliding, to the layperson. Gliders and helicopters... I fly them both."

"Oh." _Expensive hobbies. _I remember him telling me during the interview. I like reading and occasionally going to the movie. _I am so out of my depth here._

"Charlie Tango, come in, please, over." The disembodied voice of air traffic control interrupts my reverie. Vincent answers, sounding in control and confident.

Seattle is getting closer. We are on the very outskirts now. _Wow! It looks stunning. _Seattle at night, from the sky...

"Looks good, doesn't it?" Vincent murmurs.

I nod enthusiastically. It looks otherworldly...unreal, and I feel like I'm on the set of Patrick's favorite movie, _Blade Runner. _The memory of Patrick's attempted kiss still haunts me. I'm beginning to feel a bit cruel not calling him back. _He can wait until tomorrow...surely._

"We'll be there in a few minutes." Vincent mutters, and suddenly my blood is pounding in my ears as my heartbeat accelerates and adrenaline spikes through my system. He starts talking to air traffic control again, but I am no longer listening. I think I'm going to faint. My fate is now in his hands.

* * *

><p>We are now among the buildings, and up ahead I can see a skyscraper with the steel letters spelling Escala at the top with a helipad in perfect view. The helicopter slows and hovers over, and Vincent sets it down onto the helipad on top of the building. My heart is now in my throat. I can't decide if it's from nervous anticipation, relief I made it here alive, or fear that I will fail in some way. He switches the ignition off and the rotor blades slow and quiet until all I hear is the erratic sound of my increased breathing. Vincent pulls off his headphones, then turns and pulls mine off too, "We're here." he says softly. His look is intense, half in shadow and half in the bright white light from the landing lights.<p>

He looks strained. His jaw is clenched and his eyes are tight. He unfastens his seatbelt and reaches over, unfastening mine, "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. You know that, don't you?" His tone is so earnest, desperate even, his eyes impassioned. He takes me by surprise.

"I'd never do anything I didn't want to, Vincent." And as I say the words, I don't quite feel their conviction, because at this moment in time, I'd probably do anything for this man seated besides me. But this does the trick, he's mollified.

He eyes me warily for a moment and somehow, even as tall as he is, he opens the door and hops out, extending his hand to me. I take it as I clamber down out of the helicopter. It's very windy on top of the building, and I'm nervous about the fact that I'm standing at least thirty stories high in an unenclosed space. Vincent wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me tightly against him, "Come on. Let's get inside." he shouts above the noise of the wind.

He drags me over to en elevator and, after tapping a number into a keypad, the doors open. It's warm inside and all mirrored glass. I can see Vincent to infinity everywhere I look, and the wonderful thing is, he's holding me to infinity, too.

* * *

><p>Moments later, we're in an all-white foyer. In the middle is a round, dark wood table, and on it is an unbelievably huge bunch of white flowers. On the walls there are paintings everywhere. He opens a set of double doors, and the white theme continues across a wide corridor where directly opposite, is the entrance to a palatial room. It's the main living area, double height. Huge is too small a word for describing it. The far wall is glass and leads onto a balcony that over-looks Seattle.<p>

To the right is an imposing U-shaped sofa that could seat ten people comfortably. It faces a state-of-the-art stainless-steel, or maybe platinum, for all I know, modern fireplace. The fire is lit and flaming gently. On the left beside us, by the entryway, is the kitchen area. All white with dark wood worktops and a breakfast bar that seats six.

Near the kitchen area, in front of the glass wall, is a dining table surrounded by sixteen chairs. And tucked in the corner is a full-sized. Shiny black gran piano. _Oh yes... he probably plays the piano, too._ There is art of all shapes and sizes on all of the walls. In fact, this apartment looks more like a gallery than a place to live.

"Can I take your jacket?" Vincent asks. I shake my head. I'm still freezing cold from the winds on the rooftop.

"Would you like a drink?" he asks. I blink at last night?! _Is he trying to be funny? _For one second, I think about asking for a margarita, but I don't have the nerve.

"I'm going to have a glass of white wine. Do you want to join me?" he asks again.

"Yes... Please." I murmur. _Oh my God, I'm so nervous!_

Vincent opens a bottle of wine. He grabs two slim, crystal wine glasses from the cupboard above him then removes his jacket and pours the wine.

"Pouilly Fume okay with you?"

"I know nothing about wine, Vincent. I'm sure it will be fine." My voice is soft and hesitant. My heart is thumping. I want to run! This is seriously rich. Seriously over-the-top Bill Gates style wealthy. _What am I doing here? _

_You know very well what you're doing here. _My subconscious sneers at me. _Yes, I want to be in Vincent Keller's bed._

"Here." He hands me a glass of wine. I take a sip, and the wine is light, crisp, and delicious.

"You're very quiet, and you're not even blushing. In fact, I think this is the palest I've ever seen you, Catherine." he murmurs, "Are you hungry?"

I shakes my head. _Not for food. _"It's a very big place you have here."

"Big?"

"Big."

"It's big." he agrees, and his eyes glow with amusement. I take another sip of my wine.

"Do you play?" I point my chin at the piano.

"Yes."

"You play well?"

"Yes."

"Of course you do. Is there anything you can't do well?"

"Yeah... a few things." He takes a sip of his wine. He doesn't take his eyes off me. I feel them following me as I turn and glance around this vast room. Room is actually the wrong word. It's not a room... it's a mission statement.

"Do you want to sit?" he asks in a whisper.

I nod, and he takes my hand and leads me to the large off-white couch. As I sit, I'm struck by the fact that I feel like Tess Durbeyfield looking at the new house that belongs to the notorious Alec d'Urberville. The thought makes me smile.

"What's so amusing?" He sits down beside me, turning to face me. He rests his head on his right hand, his elbow resting on the back of the couch.

"Why did you give me _Tess of the d'Urbervilles _specifically?" I ask. Vincent stares at me for a moment. I think he's surprised by my question.

"Well, you said that you like Thomas Hardy."

"Is that the only reason?" Even I can hear the disappointment in my voice. His mouth presses into a hard line.

"It seemed appropriate. I could hold you to some impossibly high ideal like Angel Clare or debase you completely like Alec d'Urberville." he murmurs, and his eyes flash dark and dangerous.

"If there are only two choices, I'll take the debasement." I whisper, gazing at him. My subconscious is staring at me in awe. He gasps, "Catherine, stop biting your lip, please. It's very distracting. You don't know what you're saying."

"That's why I'm here."

He frowns, "Yes, of course. Would you excuse me for a moment?" He disappears into a wide doorway on the far side of the room. He's gone for a couple of minutes and returns with a document.

"This is a nondisclosure agreement." He shrugs and has the grace to look a little embarrassed. He sighs, "My lawyer insists on it." He hands it to me. I'm completely bemused. He continues, "If you're going for option number two, debasement, you'll need to sign this."

"And if I don't want to sign anything?"

"Then it's Angel Clare high ideals, well, for most of the book anyway."

"What does this agreement mean?" I ask, curious.

"It means you can't disclose anything about us. Anything to anyone."

I stare at him in disbelief. _Holy shit! It's bad, really bad! _And now, I'm very curious to know.

"Okay, I'll sign."

He hands me a pen, "Aren't you even going to read it?"

"No."

He frowns, "Catherine, you should always read anything you sign." he admonishes me.

"Vincent, what you fail to understand is that I wouldn't talk about us to anyone anyway. Even Tess. So it's immaterial whether I sign an agreement or not. If it means so much to you, or to your lawyer... whom _you _obviously talk to, then fine. I'll sign."

He gazes down at me, and he nods gravely, "Fair point well made, Miss Chandler."

I lavishly sign on the dotted line of both copies and hand one back to him. Folding the other, I stick it down into my purse and take a large swig of my wine. I'm sounding so much braver than I'm actually feeling.

"So does this mean you're going to make love to me tonight, Vincent?" _Holy crap! Did I just say that? _His mouth drops open slightly, but he recovers quickly, "No, Catherine... it doesn't. First of all, I don't make love. I fuck... _hard_. Secondly, there's a lot more paperwork to do. And third, you don't yet know what you're in for. You could still run for the hills." he pauses momentarily and sighs, "Come, I want you to see my playroom."

My mouth drops open. _Fuck hard! Holy shit, that sounds so...HOT! _But why are we looking at a playroom? I am mystified.

"You want to play on your Xbox?" I ask. He laughs loudly, "No, Catherine. No Xbox, no Playstation. Please, come with me and I'll show you." He stands, holding out his hand. I hesitate, honestly I do. I finally place my hand in his and stand. He guides us back to the corridor. On the right of the double doors, where we came in, another door leads to a staircase. We go up to the second floor and turn right. Producing a key from his pocket, he unlocks yet another door and takes a deep breath.

"You can leave anytime. The helicopter is on standby to take you whenever you want to go; you can stay the night an go home in the morning. Either way, it is fine whatever you decide."

"Just open the damn door, Vincent."

He opens the door and stands back to let me in. I gaze at him once more. I so want to know what's in here. Taking a deep breath, I walk in.

And it feels like I've time-traveled back to the sixteenth century and the Spanish Inquisition.

_HOLY FUCK!_

* * *

><p><em><strong>**Things are about to heat up ;) MWAHAHAHA!**<strong>_


	7. Chapter 7

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*WARNING:<strong>** The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, ****graphic sexual content, and DOM/SUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*Extra:<strong>** I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires. **

_Italics are for Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 7-<strong>_

The first thing I notice, is the smell: leather, wood polish with a faint citrus scent. It's very pleasant, and the lighting is soft, subtle. In fact, I can't see the source, but it's around the cornice in the room, emitting an ambient glow. The walls and ceiling are a deep, dark burgundy, giving a womb-like effect to the spacious room, and the floor is old, old varnished wood. There is a large wooden cross like an X fastened to the wall facing the door. It's made of ropes, chains, and glinting shackles. By the door, two long, polished, ornately carved poles, like spindles from a banister but longer, hang like curtain rods across the wall. From them swing a startling assortment of paddles, whips, riding crops, and funny-looking feathery implements.

Beside the door stands a substantial mahogany chest of drawers, each drawer slim as if designed to contain specimens in a crusty old museum. I wonder briefly what the drawers actually _do _hold. _Do I want to know? _In the far corner is an oxblood leather padded bench, and fixed to the wall beside it is a wooden, polished rack that looks like a pool or billiard cue holder, but on closer inspection, it holds canes of varying lengths and widths. There's a stout six-foot-long table in the opposite corner... polished wood with intricately carved legs... and two matching stools underneath.

But what dominates the room is a bed. It's bigger than king sized, an ornately carved rococo four-poster with a flat top. It looks late nineteenth century. Under the canopy, I can see more gleaming chains and cuffs. There is no bedding... just a mattress covered in red leather and red satin cushions piled at one end.

At the foot of the bed, set apart a few feet, is a large oxblood chesterfield couch, just stuck in the middle of the room facing the bed. An odd arrangement... to have a couch facing the bed, and I smile to myself... I've picked on the couch as odd, when in reality it's the most mundane piece of furniture in the room. I glance up and stare at the ceiling. There are carabiners all over the ceiling at odd intervals. I vaguely wonder what they're for. Weirdly, all the wood, dark walls, moody lighting, and oxblood leather makes the room kind of soft and romantic.

I turn, and Vincent's regarding me intently, as I knew he would be, his expression completely unreadable. I walk further into the room, and he follows me. The feathery thing has me intrigued. I touch it hesitantly. It's suede, like a small cat-o'-nine-tails but bushier, and there are very small plastic beads on the end.

"It's called a flogger." Vincent's voice is quiet and soft.

_A flogger... hmm. _I think I'm in shock. My subconscious has emigrated or been struck dumb or simply keeled over and expired. I am totally numb right now. I can observe and absorb but not articulate my feelings about all of this, because I'm in shock. What is the appropriate response to finding out a potential lover is a complete freaky sadist or masochist? _Fear... yes... _That seems to be the overriding feeling. I recognize it now. But weirdly not of him... I don't think he'd hurt me, well, not without my consent. So many questions cloud my brain. _Why? How? When? How often? Who? _I walk toward the bed and run my hands down one of the intricately carved posts. The post is very sturdy, the craftsmanship outstanding.

"Say something." Vincent commands, his voice deceptively soft.

"Do you do this to people or do they do it to you?"

His mouth quirks up, either amused or relieved, "People?" He blinks a couple of times as he considers his answer, "I do this to women who want me to."

_I don't understand._

"If you have willing volunteers, why am I here?"

"Because I want to do this with you... very much."

"Oh." I gasp. _Why?_

I wander to the far corner of the room and pat the waist-high padded bench and run my fingers over the leather. _He likes to hurt women. _The thought depresses me.

"You're a sadist?"

"I'm a Dominant." His eyes are a scorching brown, intense.

"What does that mean?" I whisper.

"It means I want you to willingly surrender yourself to me... In all things."

I frown at him as I try to assimilate this idea.

"Why would I do that?"

"To please me." he whispers as he cocks his head to one side and I see a ghost of a smile.

_Please him! He wants me to please him! _I think my mouth drops open. _Please Vincent Keller. _And I realize, in that moment, that yes, that's exactly what I want to do. I want him to be damned delighted with me. It's a revelation.

"In very simple terms, I want you to _want _to please me." he says softly. His voice is hypnotic.

"How do I do that?" My mouth is dry, and I wish I had more wine. _Okay, I understand the pleasing but, but I am puzzled by the soft-boudoir Elizabethan-torture setup. Do I want to know the answer?_

"I have rules, and I want you to comply with them. They are for your benefit and my pleasure. If you follow these rules to my satisfaction, I shall reward you. If you don't, I shall punish you and you will learn." he whispers. I glance at the rack of canes as he says this.

"And where does all this fit in?" I wave my hand in the general direction of the room.

"It's all part of the incentive package. Both reward and punishment.

"So you'll get you kicks by exerting your will over me?"

"It's about gaining your trust and your respect, so you'll let me exert my will over you. I will gain a great deal of pleasure, joy even, in your submission. The more you submit, the greater my joy... it's a very simple equation."

"Okay, and what do I get out this?" I snap.

He shrugs and looks almost apologetic, "Me." he says simply.

_Oh sweet Lord! _Vincent rakes his hand through his hair as he gazes at me.

"You're not giving anything away, Catherine." he murmurs, exasperated, "Let's go back downstairs where I can concentrate better. It's very distracting having you in here." He holds his hand out to me, and now I'm hesitant to take it.

Tess had said he was dangerous; she was so right. _How did she know? _He's dangerous to my health, because I know I'm going to say yes. And part of me doesn't want to. Part of me wants to run screaming from this room and all it represents. I am so out of my depth here.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Catherine."

I know he speaks the truth. I take his hand, and he leads me out the door.

"If you do this, let me show you." Rather than going back downstairs, he turns right out of the _playroom_, as he calls it, and down a corridor. We pass several doors until we reach the one at the end. Beyond it is a bedroom with a large double bed, all in white... everything... furniture, walls, bedding. It's sterile and cold but with the most glorious view of Seattle through the glass wall.

"This will be your room. You can decorate it how you like, have whatever you like in here."

"My room? You're expecting me to move in?" I can't hide the horror in my voice.

"Not full time. Just, say, Friday evening through Sunday. We have to talk about all that, negotiate. If you want to do this, that is." he adds, his voice quiet and hesitant.

"I'll sleep here?"

"Yes."

"Not with you?"

"No. I told you, I don't sleep with anyone, except you when you're stupefied with alcohol." His voice is reprimanding.

This is what I can't reconcile. Kind, caring Vincent, who rescues me from inebriation and holds me gently while I'm throwing up into the azaleas, and the monster who possess whips and chains in a special room.

"Where do you sleep?"

"My room is downstairs. Come, you must be hungry."

"Weirdly, I seem to have lost my appetite." I murmur.

"You need to eat, Catherine." he scolds, and, taking my hand he leads me back downstairs.

Suddenly I feel like I am on the edge of a precipiece, and I have to decide whether to jump.

"I'm fully aware that this is a dark path I'm leading you down, Catherine, which is why I really want you to think about this. You must have some questions." he says as he wanders into the kitchen area, releasing my hand.

_I do. But where to start?_

"You've signed your NDA; you can ask me anything you want, and I promise, I'll answer."

I stand at the breakfast bar watching him as he opens the refrigerator and pulls out a plate of different cheeses with two large bunches of red and green grapes. He sets the plate onto the worktop and proceeds to sut up a French baguette.

"Sit." He points to one of the stools at the breakfast bar, and I obey his command. If I'm going to do this, I'm going to have to get used to it. I realize he's been this bossy since I met him.

"You mentioned paperwork."

"Yeah."

"What paperwork?"

"Well, apart from the NDA, a contract saying what we will and won't do. I need to know your limits, and you need to know mine. This is all consensual, Catherine."

"And if I don't want to do this?"

"That's fine. I won't make you." he says carefully.

"But we won't have any sort of relationship?" I ask.

"No."

"Why?"

"This is the only sort of relationship I'm interested in."

"Why?"

He shrugs, "It's the way I am."

"How did you become this way?"

"Why is anyone the way they are? That's kind of hard to answer. Why do some people like cheese and other people hate it? Do you like cheese? Mrs. Jones, my housekeeper, has left this for supper." He takes some large white plates from a cupboard and places one in front of me.

_We're talking about cheese now? WTF?!_

"What are your rules that I have to follow?"

"I have them written down. We'll go through them once we've eaten."

_Food. How can I eat now?_

"I'm really not hungry." I whisper.

"You will eat." he says simply. _Dominating Vincent, it all becomes clear. _

"Would you like another glass of wine?"

"Please." I sigh.

He pours wine into my glass and comes to sit beside me. I take a hasty sip.

"Help yourself to food, Catherine."

I take a small bunch of grapes. This I can manage. He narrows his eyes.

"Have you been like this for a while?" I ask, popping a grape into my mouth.

"Yes."

"Is it easy to find women who want to do this?"

He raises an eyebrow at me, "You'd be amazed." he says dryly.

"Then why me? I really don't understand."

"Catherine, I've told you. There's something about you. I can't leave you alone." He smiles ironically, "I'm like a moth to a flame." His voice darkens, "I want you _very _badly, especially now since you're biting your lip again." He takes a deep breath and swallows hard.

My stomach somersaults. _He wants me... in a weird way, true, but this beautiful, strange, kinky man wants me!_

"I think you have that cliché the wrong way around." I grumble. I am the moth and he the flame, and I know I'm going to get burned.

"Eat!"

"No. I haven't signed anything yet, so I think I'll hang on to my free-will for a bit longer, if you don't mind."

His eyes soften, and his lips turn up in a smile, "As you wish, Miss Chandler."

"How many women?" I blurt out the question, but I'm curious.

"Fifteen."

_Oh... not as many as I was thinking._

"For long periods of time?" I ask.

"Some of them, yeah."

"Have you ever hurt anyone?"

"Yes."

_Holy fucking shit!_

"Badly?"

"No."

"Will you hurt me?" _SHUT THE HELL UP CATHERINE!_

"What do you mean?"

I swallow hard, "Physically, will you hurt me?"

"I will punish you when you require it, and it will be painful."

I think I feel a little faint right about now. I take another sip of wine. _Alcohol, this will make me brave._

"Have you been beaten?" I ask, but I have no idea why.

"Yes."

_Oh... that surprises me._

"Let's discuss this in my study. I want to show you something." he says softly.

This is hard to process. Here I was foolishly thinking that I'd spend a night of unparalleled passion in this man's bed, and we're negotiating_this_ weird arrangement.

* * *

><p>I follow him to his study, a spacious room with another floor-to-ceiling window that opens out onto the balcony. He sits on the desk, motions for me to sit on a leather chair in front of him, and hands me a piece of paper.<p>

"These are the rules. They may be subject to change. They form part of the contract, which you can also have. Read these rules and let's discuss." he says crossing his arms as he sighs.

* * *

><p><strong>RULES<strong>

_Obedience:_

The Submissive will obey any instructions given by the Dominant immediately without hesitation or reservation and in an expeditious manner.

_Sleep:_

The Submissive will ensure she achieves a minimum of seven hours' of sleep and night when she is not with the Dominant.

_Food:_

The Submissive will eat regularly to maintain her health and well-being from a prescribed list of foods.

_Clothes:_

During the term, the Submissive will wear clothing only approved by the Dominant. The Dominant will provide a clothing budget for the Submissive, which the Submissive shall utilize.

_Exercise:_

The Dominant shall provide the Submissive with a personal trainer four times a week in hour-long sessions at times to be mutually agreed between the personal trainer and the Submissive.

_Personal Hygiene/Beauty: _

The Submissive will keep herself clean and shaved and/or waxed at all times.

_Personal Qualities:_

The Submissive will not enter into any sexual relations with anyone other than the Dominant.

**Failure to comply with any of the above will result in immediate punishment, the nature of which shall be determined by the Dominant.**

* * *

><p><em>Holy Fuck!<em>

"Hard limits?" I ask.

"Yes. What you won't do, what I won't do. We need to specify in our agreement."

"I'm not sure about accepting money for clothes. It feels wrong." I shift uncomfortably, the word 'ho' rattling around my head.

"I want to lavish money on you. Let me buy you some clothes. I may need you to come with me to functions, and I want you dressed well. I'm not sure your salary, when you do get a job, won't cover the kind of clothes I'd like you to wear."

"I don't have to wear them when I'm not with you?"

"No."

"Okay." _Think of them as uniform, Cat._

I sigh in frustration, "I don't want to exercise four times a week."

"Catherine, I need you supple, strong, and with stamina. Trust me, you will need to exercise."

"But surely not four times a week. How about three?"

"I want you to do four."

"I thought this was a negotiation?" I hiss.

He purses his lips at me, "Okay, Miss Chandler, another point well made. How about an hour on three days and one day half an hour?"

"Threes days, three hours. I get the impression you're going to keep me exercised when I'm here."

He smiles wickedly, and his eyes glow as if relieved, "Yes. I am. Okay, agreed. Are you sure you don't want to intern at my company? You're a good negotiator."

"No, I don't think that's a good idea." I stare down at his rules. _Waxing! Waxing what? Everything?! Ugh!_

"So, limits. These are mine." He hands me another piece of paper.

* * *

><p><strong>HARD LIMITS<strong>

No acts involving fire play.

No acts involving urination or defecation and the products therof.

No acts involving needles, knives, piercing, or blood.

No acts involving gynecological medical instruments.

No acts involving children or animals.

No acts involving breath control.

No acts that will leave permanent marks on the skin.

No activity that involves the direct contact of electric current (whether alternating or direct), fire, or flames to the body.

* * *

><p><em>Ugh! He has to write these down?! <em>Of course... they all look very sensible and, frankly, necessary... Any sane person wouldn't want to be involved in this sort of thing, surely. Though I now feel a little queasy.

"Is there anything you'd like to add?" he asks kindly.

_Crap! _I've no idea. I am completely stumped.

He gazes at me and furrows his brow, "Is there anything you won't do?" he asks.

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

I squirm uncomfortably and bite my lip, "I've never done anything like this."

"Well, when you've had sex, was there anything that you didn't like doing?"

For the fist time in what seems like ages, I blush.

"You can tell me, Catherine. We have to be honest with each other or this isn't going to work."

I squirm uncomfortably again and stare at my knotted fingers.

"Tell me." he commands.

"Well... I haven't had sex before, so I don't know." My voice is small. I peek up at him and he's gaping at me, frozen, and pale... really pale.

"Never?" he whispers. I shake my head.

"You're a virgin?" he breathes. I nod, flushing again. He closes his eyes and looks to be counting to ten. When he opens them again, he's angry, glaring at me.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?!" he growls.

I'm speechless. Frozen in my skin. My brain has completely shut down. Vincent is running his hands through his hair, frustratingly, and pacing his study. Back, and forth, back and forth. His usual concrete control seems to have slipped a notch.

"I don't understand why you didn't tell me." he castigates me.

"The subject never came up. I'm not in the habit of revealing my sexual status to everyone I meet. I mean, we hardly know each other." I snap back at him.

I stare down at my hands. _Why am I feeling guilty? Why is he so mad?_ I peek up at him.

"Well, you know a lot more about me now." he snaps back in response, his mouth presses into a hard line, "I knew you were inexperienced, but a _virgin_!" He says it like it's a really dirty word... "Hell, Cat, I just showed you..." he groans. "May God forgive me. Have you ever been kissed, apart from me?"

"Of course I have!" I try my best to look affronted. _Okay... maybe twice._

"And a nice young guy hasn't swept you off your feet? I just don't understand. You're twenty-one, nearly twenty-two. You're beautiful!" He runs his hand through his hair again.

_Beautiful... _I flush with pleasure. Vincent Keller thinks I'm beautiful. I knot my fingers together, staring at them hard, trying to conceal my goofy grin. _Perhaps he's farsighted. _My suconscious has reared her somnambulant head. Where was she when I needed her?

"And you're seriously discussing what I want to do, when you have no experience." His brows knit together, "How have you avoided sex? Please, tell me!"

I shrug, "No one's really, you know..." _Come up to scratch, only you._ And you turn out to be some kind of monster, "Why are you so angry with me?" I whisper.

"I'm not angry with you, I'm angry with myself. I just assumed..." He sighs. He regards me shrewdly ad then shakes his head, "Do you want to go?" he asks, his voice gentle.

"No, unless you want me to go." I murmur. _Oh no! I don't want to leave._

"Of course not. I like having you here." He frowns as he says this and then glances at his watch, "It's late." And he turns to look at me, "You're biting your lip." His voice is husky, and he's eyeing me speculatively.

"Sorry." I sigh, releasing my lip from my teeth.

"Don't apologize. It's just that I want to bite it, too... _hard._"

I gasp... _how can he say things like that to me and not expect me to be affected? _

"Come on." he murmurs.

"What?"

"We're going to rectify the situation... right now." he says with dark eyes.

"What do you mean? What situation?" _I'm confused..._

"_Your_ situation... Cat, I'm going to make love to you."

"_Oh_." The floor has fallen away. _I'm a situation! _I'm holding my breath... I bite my lip.

"That's if you want to. I mean, I don't want to push my luck." he adds.

"I thought you didn't make love... I thought you fucked hard." I swallow, my mouth is suddenly dry.

He gives me a wicked grin, the effects of which travel all the way down... _there._

"I can make an exception, or maybe combine the two, we'll see. I want our arrangement to work, but you really need to have some idea of what you're getting yourself into. We can start your training tonight... with the basics. This doesn't mean I've come over hearts and flowers; it's a means to an end, but one that I want, and hopefully you do too." His gaze is intense.

I flush. O_h my __God__... wishes do come true._

* * *

><p><strong><em>**Yea I know this chapter is much shorter than the rest. <em>_I honestly did not feel like writing ALL of the Rules, which are extremely long lol. __I'm sorry. Next one will be better I hope lol. It's now time for me to go to bed. Love you all. REVIEWS!**_**


	8. Chapter 8

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*WARNING:<strong>** The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, ****graphic sexual content, and DOM/SUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*Extra:<strong>** I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: All I can say is, for this chapter... put 'Desire' by Meg Myers on repeat for this chapter...JESUS HELP ME NOW! Lol.)**

_Italics stand for Catherine's thoughts_

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 8-<strong>_

I gaze up at him, swallowing hard, "But I haven't done all the things you require from your list of rules." My voice is breathy, hesitant.

"Forget about the rules. Forget about all those details for tonight... I want you, Catherine. I've wanted you since you fell into my office, and I know you want me, too. You wouldn't be here calmly discussing punishment and hard limits if you didn't. Please, Cat... Please spend the night with me." He holds out his hand to me, his eyes are bright, fervent... excited, and I put my hand in his. He pulls me up and into his arms so I can feel the length of his body against mine, this swift action taking me by surprise. He runs his fingers around the nape of my neck, winds my ponytail around his wrist, and gently pulls so I'm forced to look up at him.

He gazes down at me, "You're one brave young woman, Catherine." he whispers, "I am in awe of you."

His words are like some kind of incendiary device; my blood flames. He leans down and kisses my lips gently, and he sucks at my lower lip, "I want to bite this badly." he murmurs against my mouth, and carefully he tugs at it with his teeth. I moan as my eyes close, rolling in the back of my head and he smiles once I've reopened them.

"Please Catherine... Let me make love to you."

"Okay... Make love to me Vincent." I whisper, because that's why I'm here. His smile is triumphant as he releases me and takes my hand and leads me through the apartment.

His bedroom is vast. The ceiling-height windows look out on lit-up Seattle high-rises. The walls are white, and the furnishings are pale blue. The enormous bed is ultramodern, made of rough, gray wood like driftwood, four posts but no canopy. On the wall above it is a stunning painting of the sea.

I am quaking like a leaf. This is it. Finally, after all this time, I'm going to do it with none other than Vincent Keller. My breath is shallow, and I can't take my eyes off him. He removes his watch and sits it down on top of a chest of drawers that matches the bed, and removes his jacket, placing it on the chair. He's dressed in his white linen shirt and blue jeans. He's heart-stoppingly beautiful!

His dark brown hair is a mess, his shirt hanging out... his golden brown eyes bold and dazzling. He steps out of his Converse shoes and reaches down and takes his socks off individually. _Vincent Keller's feet... wow... what is it about naked feet?_

Turning, he gazes at me, his expression is soft, "I assume you're not on the pill."

_What? Shit!_

"I didn't think so." He opens the top drawer of the chest and removes a packet of condoms. He gazes at me intently, "Be prepared." he murmurs, "Do you want the blinds drawn?"

"I don't mind." I whisper, "I thought you didn't let anyone sleep in your bed."

"Who say's we'll be sleeping?" hr mutters.

"Oh.." _Holy hell!_

He strolls slowly toward me... confident, sexy, eyes blazing, and my heart begins to pound against my flesh. My blood's pumping through my body... desire, thick and hot, pools in my belly. He stands in front of me, staring down into my eyes. _He's so freaking hot!_

"Let's get this jacket off, shall we?" he says softly, and takes hold of the lapels and gently slides my jacket off my shoulders. He places it on the chair with his.

He traces my bottom lip with his finger-tips, his eyes are now five shades darker, "Do you have any idea how bad I want you, Catherine Chandler?" he whispers. My breath hitches and I can't take my eyes off his. He reaches up and gently runs his fingers down my cheek to my chin, "Do you have any idea what I'm going to do to you?" he adds, caressing my chin.

The muscles inside the deepest, darkest part of me clench in the most delicious fashion. The pain is so sweet and sharp... I want to close my eyes, but I'm hypnotized by his eyes staring fervently into mine. Leaning down, he kisses me. His lips are demanding, firm, and slow, molding mine. He starts unbuttoning my shirt while he places feather-like kisses across my jaw, my chin, and the corners of my mouth. Slowly he peels it off of me and lets it fall to the floor. He stands back and gazes at me. I'm in the pale blue lacy perfect-fit bra that Tess had bought for me. _Thank God for Tess! _

"Dear God." he breathes, "You have the most beautiful skin, pale and flawless. I just want to kiss every single inch of it."

I flush. _Oh Jesus... Why did he say he couldn't make love? I will do anything he want__s. _He grasps my hair tie, pulls it free, and gasps as my hair cascades down around my shoulders.

"I like brunettes." he murmurs, and both of his hands are in my hair, grasping each side of my head. His kiss is demanding, his tongue and lips coaxing mine. I moan, and my tongue tentatively meets his. He puts his arms around me and hauls me against his body, squeezing me tightly. One hand remains in my hair, the other travels down my spine to my waist and down to my behind. His hand flexes over my backside and squeezes it gently. He holds me against his hips, and I feel his erection, which he languidly pushes into me.

I moan once more into his mouth. I can hardly contain the riotous feelings... or are they hormones?... that rampage through my body. I want him so badly. Gripping his upper arms, I feel his biceps. He's surprisingly strong... muscular. Tentatively, I move my hands up to his face and into his hair. It's so soft, unruly. I tug gently, and he groans. He eases me towards the bed, until I feel it behind my knees. I think he's going to push me down onto it, but he doesn't. Releasing me, he suddenly drops to his knees. He grabs my hips with both hands and runs his tongue around my navel, then gently nips his way to my hipbone, then across my belly to my other hipbone.

"Ah." I groan.

Seeing him on his knees in front of me, feeling his mouth on me, it's so unexpected, and hot. My hands stay in his hair, pulling gently as I try to quiet my too-loud breathing. He gazes up at me through impossibly long lashes, his eyes a scorching golden brown. His hands reach up and undo the button on my jeans, and he leisurely pulls down the zipper. Without taking his eyes off mine, his hands move beneath the waistband, skimming me and moving to my behind. His hands glide slowly down my backside to my thighs, removing my jeans as they go. I can't look away, as I'm still completely hypnotized by his chocolate gaze.

He stops and licks his lips, never breaking eye contact. He leans forward, running his nose up the apex between my thighs. I feel him. _There_.

"You smell so good." he murmurs, and closes his eyes, a look of pure pleasure on his face, and I practically convulse. He reaches up and tugs the duvet off the bed, then pushes me gently so I fall on to the mattress.

Still kneeling, he grasps my foot and undoes my Converse, pulling off my shoe and sock. I raise myself up on my elbows to see what he's doing. I'm panting now... wanting him. He lifts my foot by the heel and runs his thumbnail up my instep. It's almost painful, but I feel the movement echoed in my groin. I gasp. Mot taking his eyes off mine again, he runs his tongue along my instep and then his teeth.

_Shit!_

I groan... how can I feel this _there? _I fall back onto the bed, moaning loudly. I can hear him softly chuckle, "Oh, Catherine... what I could do to you." he whispers. He removes my other shoes and sock, then stands and removes my jeans completely._ I'm lying on his bed dressed only in my bra and panties, and he's staring down at me._

"You're very beautiful, Catherine Chandler. I'm dying to be inside you."

_Holy shit! His words! He's so seductive! He completely takes my breath away!_

"Show me how you pleasure yourself."

_What? _I frown.

"Don't be coy, Cat... show me." he whispers.

I shake my head, "I don't know what you mean." My voice is hoarse. I hardly recognize it, laced with desire.

"How do you get off?"

I shake my head, "I don't." I mumble. He raises his eyebrows, astonished for a moment, and his eyes darken even more. He shakes his head in disbelief, "Well, we'll have to see what we can do about that." His voice is soft, challenging, a delicious sensual threat. He undoes the buttons of his jeans and slowly pulls his jeans down, his eyes on mine the whole time. He leans down over me and, grasping each of my ankles, quickly jerks my legs apart and crawls onto the bed between my legs.

He hovers over me. I'm squirming with need.

"Keep still." he mutters, and then he leans down and kisses the inside of my thigh, trailing kisses up over the thin lacy pale blue material of my panties, kissing me.

_Oh... I can't keep still. How can I not move? _I wriggle beneath him.

"We're going to have to work on keeping you still, Catherine." He trails kisses up my belly, and his tongue dips into my navel. Still he's headed north, kissing me across my torso. My skin is burning. I'm flushed, too hot, too cold, and I'm clawing at the sheet beneath me. He lies down beside me and his hand trails up from my hip, to my waist, and up to my breast. He gazes down at me, his expression unreadable, and gently cups my breast.

"You fit my hand perfectly, Catherine." he murmurs, and dips his index finger into the cup of my bra and gently yanks it down, freeing my breast, but the underwire and fabric of the cup force it upward. His finger moves to my other breast and repeats the process. My breasts swell, and my nipples harden under his steady gaze. I am trussed up by my own bra.

"Very nice." he whispers appreciatively, and my nipples harden even more.

He blows very gently on one as his hand moves to my other breast, and his thumb slowly rolls the end of my nipple, elongating it. I groan, feeling the sweet sensation all the way to my groin. I am so wet. _Oh, please! _My body begs as my fingers clasp the sheet tighter. His lips close around my other nipple, and when he tugs, I nearly convulse.

"Let's see if we can make you get off like this." he whispers, continuing his slow, sensual assault. My nipples bear the delicious brunt of his deft fingers and lips, setting alight every single nerve ending so that my whole body sings with sweet agony. He just doesn't stop.

"Oh...please!" I beg, and I pull my head back, my mouth open as I groan, my legs stiffening. _Holy hell, what's happening to me?_

"Let go, baby." he murmurs. His teeth close round my nipple, and his thumb and finger pull hard, and I fall apart in his hands, my body convulsing and shattering into a thousand pieces. He kisses me, deeply, his tongue in my mouth absorbing my cries.

_Oh my. That was extraordinary. Now I know what the fuss is about. _He gazes down at me, a satisfied smile on his face, while I'm sure there's nothing but gratitude on mine.

"You're very responsive." he breathes, "You're going to have to learn to control that, and it's going to be so much fun teaching you how." he kisses me again.

My breathing is still tagged as I come down from my orgasm. His hand moves down my waist, to my hips and then cups me, intimately... _Jeez! _His finger slips through the fine lace and slowly circles around me... _there._ Briefly he close his eyes, and his breathing hitches, "You're so deliciously wet..." he whispers, "God, I want you."

He thrusts his finger inside me, and I cry out as he does it again and again. He palms my clitoris, and I cry out once more. He pushes inside me harder and harder still. I groan.

Suddenly, he sits up and tugs my panties off and throws them on the floor. Pulling off his boxer briefs, his erection springs free. _Holy cow! ITS HUGE!_ He reaches over to the bedside table and grabs a foil packet, and then he moves between my legs, spreading them farther apart. He kneels up and pulls a condom onto his considerable length. _Oh no... Will it? How?_

"Don't worry." he breathes, his eyes on mine, "You expand, too." He leans down, his hands on either side of my head, so he's hovering over me, staring down into my eyes, his jaw clenched, eyes burning. It's only now that I register he's still wearing his shirt.

"You really want to do this?" he asks softly.

I swallow hard, biting my bottom lip, "Please." I beg.

"Pull you knees up." he orders softly, and I'm quick to obey, "I'm going to fuck you now, Miss Chandler..." he murmurs as he positions the head of his erection at the entrance of my sex, "Hard." he whispers, and he slams into me.

"Aargh!" I cry as I feel a weird pinching sensation deep inside me as he rips through my virginity. He stills, gazing down at me, his eyes bright with ecstatic triumph.

His mouth is open slightly, and his breathing is harsh. He groans, "You're so tight... You okay?"

I nod, my eyes wide, my hands on his forearms. I feel so full. He stays still, letting me adjust to his size, and the overwhelming feeling of him inside of me.

"I'm going to move, Catherine." he breathes after a moment, his voice tight.

_Oh._

He eases back with exquisite slowness. And he close his eyes and groans, and thrusts into me again. I cry out a second time, and he stills again, "More?" he whispers, his voice raw.

"Yes." I breathe. He does it once more, and still again. I groan, my body accepting him... _Oh, I want this._

"Again?" he breathes.

"Yes." It's a plea.

And he moves, but this time he doesn't stop. He shifts onto his elbows so I can feel his weight on me, holding me down. He moves slowly at first, easing himself in and out of me. And as I grow accustomed to the alien feeling, my hips move tentatively to meet his. He speeds up. I moan, as he pounds into me, picking up speed, merciless, a relentless rhythm, and I keep up, meeting his thrusts.

He grasps my head between his hands and kisses me hard, his teeth pulling at my lower lip again. He shifts slightly, and I can feel something building deep inside me, like before. I start to stiffen as he thrusts on and on. My body quivers, bows; a sheen of sweat gathers over me. _Oh my God! I didn't know it would feel like this... didn't know it could feel as good as this. _My thoughts are scattering... there's only sensation... only him... only me... _oh, please... _I stiffen.

"Come for me, Catherine." he whispers breathlessly, and I unravel at hi words, exploding around him as I climax and splinter into a million pieces underneath him. And as he gets off, he calls my name, thrusting hard, then stilling as he empties himself into me.

* * *

><p>I'm still panting, trying to slow my breathing, my thumping heart, and my thoughts are in riotous disarray. <em>Wow... that was astounding. <em>I open my eyes, and he has his forehead pressed against mine, his eyes closed, his breathing ragged. Vincent's eyes flicker open and gaze down at me, dark but soft. He's still inside me. Leaning down, he gently presses a kiss against my forehead then slowly pulls out of me.

"Ooh." I wince at the unfamiliarity.

"Did I hurt you?" Vincent asks as he lies down beside me, propped on one elbow. He tucks a stray strand of my hair behind my ear. And I have to grin, widely, "_You_ are asking me if you hurt me?"

"The irony is not lost on me." he smiles sardonically, "Seriously, are you okay?" His eyes are intense, probing, demanding even.

I stretch out beside him, feeling loose-limbed, my bones like jelly, but I'm relaxed, deeply relaxed. I grin at him. I can't stop grinning, actually. Now I know what all the fuss is about. Two orgasms... coming apart at the seams, like the spin cycle on a washing machine, _wow! _I had no idea of what my body was capable of, could be wound so tightly and released so violently, so gratifyingly. The pleasure was indescribable!

"You're biting your lip, and you still haven't answered me." He's frowning. I grin up at him impishly. He looks glorious with his tousled hair, burning narrowed brown eyes, and serious, dark expression.

"I'd like to do that again." I whisper. For a moment, I think I see a fleeting look of relief on his face, before the shutters come down, and he gazes at me through hooded eyes.

"Would you now, Miss Chandler?" he murmurs dryly. He leans down and kisses me very gently at the corner of my mouth, "Demanding little thing, aren't you? Turn on your front."

I blink at him momentarily, and then I turn over. He unhooks my bra and runs his hand down my back to my behind.

"You really have the most beautiful skin." he murmurs. He shifts so that one of his legs pushes between mine, and he's half lying across my back. I can feel the buttons of his shirt pressing into me as he gathers my hair off my face and kisses my bare shoulder.

"Why are you wearing your shirt?" I ask. He stills. After a beat, he shuffles out of his shirt, and lies back down on me. I feel his warm skin against mine. _Hmm... it feels heavenly. _

"So you want me to fuck you again?" he whispers in my ear, and he begins to trail featherlight kisses around my ear and down my neck. He pushes his knee up higher, and my breath hitches... _What's he doing now? _He shifts so he's between my legs, pressed against my back, and his hand travels up my thigh to my behind. He caresses my cheek slowly, and then trails his fingers down between my legs.

"I'm going to take you from behind, Catherine." he mutters, and with his other hand, he grasps my hair at the nape in a fist and pulls gently, holding me in place. I can't move my head. I am pinioned beneath him, helpless.

"You are mine." he whispers, "_Only_ mine. Don't forget it." His voice is intoxicating, his words heady, seductive. I feel his growing erection against my thigh.

His long fingers reach around to gently massage my clitoris, circling slowly. His breath is soft against my face as he slowly nips me along my jaw.

"You smell divine, Miss Chandler." He nuzzles behind my ear. His hand rubs against me, around and around. Reflexively, my hips start to circle, mirroring his hand, as excruciating pleasure spikes through my blood like adrenaline.

"Keep still." he orders, his voice soft but urgent, and slowly he inserts his thumb inside of me, rotating it around and around, stroking the front wall of my sex. The effect is mind-blowing... all my energy concentrating on this small space inside my body. I moan... loud.

"You like this?" he asks softly, his teeth grazing my outer ear, and he starts to flex his thumb slowly, in, out, in, out... his fingers still circling.

I close my eyes, trying to keep my breathing under control, trying to absorb the disordered, chaotic sensations that his fingers are unleashing on me, fire coursing through my body. I moan again.

"You're so wet, so quickly. So responsive. Oh, Catherine, I like that. I like that a lot." he whispers.

I want to stiffen my legs, but I can't move. He's pinning me down, keeping up a constant, slow, tortuos rhythm. It's absolutely exquisite. I moan again, and he moves suddenly.

"Open your mouth." he commands, and thrusts his thumb in my mouth. My eyes fly open, blinking wildly.

"See how you taste." he breathes against my ear, "Suck me, Catherine." His thumb presses on my tongue, and my mouth close around him, sucking wildly. I taste the saltiness on his thumb and the faint metallic tang of blood. _Holy fuck! This is wrong, but holy hell is it erotic!_

"I'd like to fuck your mouth, Catherine... and I will soon enough." his voice is hoarse, raw, his breathing more disjointed.

_Fuck my mouth! _I moan, biting down on his thumb. He gasps and pulls my hair tighter, painfully even, so I release him.

"Naughty, sweet girl." he whispers, and then reaches over to the bedside table for a foil packet, "Stay still, don't move." he orders as he releases my hair.

He rips the foil while I'm breathing hard, my blood singing in my veins. The anticipation is exhilarating. He leans down, his weight on me again, and he grabs my hair, holding my head immobile. I can't move. I'm completely ensnared by him, and he's poised and ready to take me once more.

"We're going to go real slow this time, Catherine." he breathes. And slowly he eases into me, slowly, slowly, until he's buried in me. Stretching, filling, relentless. I groan loudly. It feels deeper this time, delectable. I groan again, and he deliberately circles his hips and pulls back, pauses a beat, and then ease his way back in. He repeats this motion again and again. It's driving me insane! His teasing, deliberately slow thrusts, and the intermittent feeling of fullness is overwhelming.

"You feel so good." he groans, and my insides start to quiver. He pulls back and waits, "Oh, no you don't. Not yet." he murmurs, and as the quivering ceases, he starts the whole delicious process again.

"Oh, please." I beg. I'm not sure I can take much more. My body is wound so tight, craving release.

"I want you sore, Catherine." he moans, and he continues his sweet, leisurely torment, backward, forward, "Every time you move tomorrow, I want you to be reminded that I've been here. Only me. You are mine."

I groan.

"Please, Vincent." I whisper.

"What do you want, Catherine? Tell me."

I groan again. He pulls out and moves slowly back into me, circling his hips once more.

"Tell me." he murmurs.

"You... I want you Vincent, please."

He increases the rhythm infinitesimally, and his breathing becomes more erratic. My insides start quickening, and Vincent picks up the rhythm.

"You. Are. So. Sweet." he murmurs between each thrust, "I. Want. You. So. Much."

I moan.

"You. Are. Mine... That's it, Catherine. Come for me." hr growls.

His words are my undoing, tipping me over the precipice. My body convulses around him, and I come, loudly calling out a garbled version of him name into the mattress. Vincent follows with two sharp thrusts, and he freezes, pouring himself into me as he finds his release. He collapses on top of me, his face in my hair, "Fuck, Catherine." he breathes. He pulls out of me immediately and rolls onto his side of the bed. I pull my knees up to my chest, utterly spent, and immediately drift off or pass out into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

><p>When I wake, it's still dark. I have no idea how long I have slept. I stretch out beneath the duvet, and I feel sore, deliciously sore. Vincent is nowhere to be seen. I sit up, staring out at the cityscape in front of me. There are fewer lights on among the skyscrapers, and there's a whisper of dawn in the east. I hear music. The lilting notes of the piano, a sad, sweet lament. Bach, I think, but I'm not sure.<p>

I wrap the duvet around me and quietly pad down the corridor toward the big room. Vincent is at the piano, completely lost in the melody he's playing. His expression is sad and forlorn, like the music. His playing is stunning. Leaning against the wall at the entrance, I listen, enraptured. He's such an accomplished musician. He sits, naked, his body bathed in the warm light cast by a large room in darkness, it's like he's in his own isolated little pool of light, untouchable... lonely, in a bubble.

I pad quietly toward him, enticed by the sublime., melancholy music. I'm mesmerized, watching his long, skilled fingers as they find and press the keys, thinking how those same fingers expertly handled and caressed my body. I flush and gasp at the memory and press my thighs together. He glances up, his unfathomable brown eyes bright, his expression unreadable.

"Sorry." I whisper, "I didn't mean to disturb you." he murmurs. He finishes playing the piano and puts his hands on his legs. I notice now that he is wearing pajama pants. He runs his fingers through his hair and stand. His pants hang from his hips, in that way... _Oh my! _My mouth goes dry as he casually strolls around the piano toward me. He has broad shoulders, narrow hips, and his abdominal muscles ripple as he walks. He really is stunning.

"You should be in bed." he whispers.

"That was a beautiful piece. Bach?"

"Transcription by Bach, but it's originally an oboe concerto by Alessandro Marcello."

"It was exquisite, but very sad. Such a melancholy melody." I smile.

His lips quirk up in a half smile, "Bed," he orders, "You'll be exhausted in the morning."

"I woke and you weren't there." I say, softly.

"I find it difficult to sleep, and I'm not used to sleeping with anyone." he murmurs. He seems a little despondent, but I can't tell in the darkness. Perhaps it was the tone of the piece he was playing.

He puts his arm around me and gently walks me back to the bedroom.

"How long have you been playing?" I ask.

"Since I was six."

"Oh." Vincent as a six-year-old boy... my mind conjures an image of a beautiful, golden brown headed little boy with golden brown orbs and my heart melts... a moppet-haired kid who likes impossibly sad music.

"How are you feeling?" he asks when we are back in the room. He switches on a sidelight.

"I'm good."

We both glance down at the bed at the very same time. There's blood on the sheets... evidence of my lost virginity. I flush, embarrassed, pulling the duvet tighter around me.

"Well, that's going to give Mrs. Jones something to think about." Vincent mutters as he stands in front of me. He puts his hand under my chin and tips my head back, staring into my eyes. His eyes are intense as he examines my face. I realize that I've not seen his naked chest before. Instinctively, I reach out to run my fingers down his sculptured frame. Immediately, he steps back out of my reach.

"Get into bed." he says sharply. His voice softens, "I'll come and lie down with you."

I drop my hand and frown. I don't think I've ever touched his torso. He opens a chest of drawers and pulls out a T-shirt and quickly slips it on.

"Bed." he orders again. I climb back onto the bed, trying not to think about the blood.. He clambers in beside me and pulls me into his embrace, wrapping his arms around me so that I'm facing away from him. He kisses my hair gently, and inhales deeply.

"Sleep, sweet Catherine." he murmurs, and I close my eyes, but I can't help but feel a residual melancholy either from the music or his demeanor. Vincent Keller has a sad side.

* * *

><p><em><strong>**Okay, im for certain taking a break now. I need ppl to get caught up on the story and I need to let my reviews catch up as well. Not sure if you know, but if your not signed in when you review, it taks 2-3 days to show the review lol. Anyways, I hope you all are okay... I know that the VINCENT we know would not say most of the stuff he's saying in the story, but I sure do hope you stick with me lol. REVIEWS! They help out...a lot!**<strong>_


	9. Chapter 9

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*WARNING:<strong>** The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, ****graphic sexual content, and DOM/SUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*Extra:<strong>** I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: Denise, I love you! You are truly inspiring me to keep going. I am truly unable to put this story down because I truly love the two combos! To help shed some light for some of the confused readers that hasn't read FSOG, Christian (Vincent) has very dark reasons as to why he is the way he is and as to why his personal tastes lie in the category of bondage/Dom-Sub relationships. It will be revealed WAY later in the story. I hope that you all catch the hints/signs throughout the story as to how it is actually a love story and not all just about sex lol, although I like sex...sex is good haha! Oops, now were getting personal, and I am going to go now. Enjoy!)**

_Italics represent Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 9-<strong>_

Light fills the room, coaxing me from deep sleep to wakefulness. I stretch out and fully open my eyes. It's a beautiful May morning, Seattle at my feet. _Wow, what a view._

Beside me, Vincent Keller is still deep in slumber. _Again, what a view! _I'm surprised he's still in bed. He's facing me, and I have an unprecedented opportunity to study him. His lovely face looks so younger, relaxed in sleep. His sculptured, pouty lips are parted slightly, and his shiny, clean hair is a glorious mess. _How can someone look this good __and still be legal? _I remember his room upstairs... _maybe he's not legal. _I ahake my head, so much to think about. It's tempting to reach out and touch him, but like a small child, he's so lovely when he's sleeping.

I could gaze at this man all day and never get bored at all. But unfortunately I have needs... bathroom needs. Slipping out of bed, I find his white linen shirt on the floor and slip it on, buttoning up the buttons. I walk through a door thinking it's the bathroom, but turns out to be a walk-in closet. _Damn! Tess' wardrobe probably rivals this._ And then it hits me. _Tess! _I was supposed to text her when I arrived in Seattle, but totally forgot. I didn't even think about her at all until now. _Crap, I'm never going to hear the end of this. _I practically face-palm. I wonder briefly how she's getting along with JT.

Returning into the bedroom, Vincent is still sleeping. I try the other door and finally find the bathroom. _Jesus, it's bigger than my bedroom back at the apartment! __What could one man do with so much space? _Two sinks, I notice with irony. Given he doesn't sleep with anyone, one of them can't have been used.

I stare at myself in the gigantic mirror above the sinks. _Do I look different? _I sure feel different. I feel a little sore, if I'm honest, and my muscles... _jeez! _It's like I've never done exercise in my life. _You don't normally do exercise, never have in your life. _My subconscious has now woken. She's staring at me with pursed lips, tapping her foot. _So you've just slept with him, given him your virginity, a man who doesn't love you. In fact, he has very odd ideas about you, wants to make you some sort of sex slave. __ARE YOU CRAZY?! _She's shouting at me.

I wince as I look in the mirror. I am going to have to process all of this. Honestly, fancy falling for a man who's beyond beautiful, richer then Croesus, and has a Red Room of Pain waiting for me. I shudder. I'm bewildered and confused. My hair is its usual wayward self. Just-fucked hair does not suit me. I try to bring order to the chaos with my fingers but fail miserably and give up... maybe I'll find hair ties in my purse.

I'm starving. I head back out to the bedroom. Sleeping beauty is still asleep, so I leave him and head for the kitchen.

_Oh no... Tess. _I left my purse in Vincent's study. I fetch it and reach for my cell phone. Three texts, all from Tess.

* * *

><p><strong>*RU OK Cat<strong>*

***Where RU Cat***

***Damn it Cat***

* * *

><p>I call Tess, but I get the voice mail. I leave her a message, letting her know that I'm still alive at least. I hang up and sigh. I have to try to categorize and analyze my thought and feelings for Vincent Keller. It's an impossible task. I shake my head in defeat. I need alone time, away from here to think.<p>

I find two hair ties at the same time in the bottom of my bag and quickly tie my hair up into pigtails. _Yes! _The more girly I look perhaps the safer I'll be from Bluebeard. I take my iPod out of my bag and plug my headphones in. There's nothing like music to cook by. I slip it into the breast pocket of Vincent's shirt, turn it up loud, and start dancing.

_Holy hell, I'm hungry._

I am daunted by his kitchen. It's so sleek and modern, and none of the cupboards has handles. It takes me a few seconds to deduce that I have to push the cupboard doors to open them. _Perhaps I should cook Vincent breakfast? _He was eating an omelet the other day... uhm, yesterday, at the Heathman Hotel. So much has happened since then. I check in the fridge, where there are plenty of eggs, and decide I want pancakes and bacon. I set about making some batter, dancing my way around the kitchen.

Being busy is good. It allows a bit of time to think but not too deeply. Music blaring in my ears also helps to stave off deep thought. I came here to spend the night in Vincent Keller's bed and managed it, even though he doesn't let anyone sleep in his bed. I smile, _mission accomplished. _Big, big time, and I'm distracted by the memory of last night. His words, his body, his lovemaking... I close my eyes as my body hums at the recollection, and my muscles contract deliciously deep in my belly. My subconscious scowls at me... _Fucking, not lovemaking, _she screams at me like a harpy. I ignore her, but deep down I know she is right. I shake my head to concentrate on the task at hand. I fail miserably as my thoughts travel back to Vincent. _Why is he this way? Nature, or nurture? _It's sop alien to anything I know.

I put the bacon under the grill, and while it's cooking, I whisk some eggs. I turn, and Vincent is sitting on one of the bar stools at the breakfast bar, leaning on it, his face supported by his steepled hands. He's still wearing the T-shirt he slept in. Just-fucked hair really, _really_ suits him, as does his designer stubble. He looks both amused and bewildered. I freeze, flush, then gather myself and pull the headphones out of my ears, my knees weak at the sight of him.

"Good morning, Miss Chandler. You're very energetic this morning." he says dryly.

"I-I slept well." I stutter my explanation. His lips try to mask his smile.

"I can't imagine why." He pauses and frowns, "So did I after I came back to bed."

"Are you hungry?" I ask.

"Very." he says with an intense look, and I don't think he's referring to food.

"Pancakes, bacon, and eggs?"

"Sounds great."

"I don't know where you keep your place-mats." I shrug, trying desperately hard not to look flustered.

"I'll do that. You cook. Would you like me to put some music on so you can continue your... er... dancing?"

I stare down at my hands as I feel my face heat up in embarrassment.

"Please, don't stop on my account. It's very entertaining." His tone is one of wry amusement.

I purse my lips._ Entertaining, eh? _My subconscious has doubled over in laughter at me. I turn and continue to whisk the eggs, probably beating them a little harder than necessary. In a moment, he's beside me. He gently pulls on one of my pigtails, "I love these." he whispers, "They won't protect you." _Hmm, Bluebeard..._

"How would you like your eggs?" I ask tartly. He smiles.

"Thoroughly whisked and beaten." He smirks.

I turn back to the task at hand, trying to hide my smile. He's hard to stay mad at. Especially when he's being so uncharacteristically playful. He opens a drawer and takes out two slate black place-mats for the breakfast bar. I pour the egg mix into a pan, pull out the bacon, turn it over, and put it back under the grill.

When I turn back around, there is orange juice on the table, and he's making coffee.

"Would you like some tea?" he asks.

"Yes, please. If you have some."

I find a couple of plates and place them in the warming tray of the range. Vincent reaches into a cupboard and pulls out some Twinings English Breakfast tea. I purse my lips, "Bit of a foregone conclusion, wasn't I?"

"Are you? I'm not sure we've concluded anything yet, Miss Chandler." he murmurs.

_What does he mean by that? Our negotiations? Our, er... relationship... whatever that is? _He's so cryptic. I serve up the breakfast onto the heated plates and lay them on the place-mats. I hunt in the refrigerator and find some maple syrup.

I glance up at Vincent, and he's waiting for me to sit down, "Miss Chandler." he motions to one of the bar stools.

"Mr. Keller." I nod in acknowledgment. I climb up and wince slightly as I sit down.

"Just how sore are you?" he asks as he sits down. I flush. _Why does he ask such personal questions? _

"Well, to be truthful, I have nothing to compare this to." I snap at him, "Did you wish to offer your commiserations?" I ask too sweetly. I think he's trying to stifle a smile, but I can't be sure.

"No. I wondered if we should continue your basic training."

"Oh." I stare at him dumbfounded as I stop breathing and everything inside me clenches tight. _Ooh... that's so nice. _I suppress my groan.

"Eat, Catherine." he growls. My appetite has become uncertain again. _More... more sex... yes, please! _

"This is delicious, incidently." He grins at me.

I try a forkful of omelet but can barely taste it. Basic Training! _I want to fuck your mouth. _Does that form part of basic training?

"Stop biting your lip. It's very distracting, and I happen to know you're not wearing anything under my shirt, which makes it even more distracting."

I dunk my teabag in the small pot that Vincent has provided. My mind is in a whirl.

"What basic training did you have in mind?" I ask, my voice slightly too high, betraying my wish to sound as natural, disinterested, and calm as I can with my hormones wreaking havoc through my body.

"Well, since you're sore, I thought we could stick to oral skills."

I choke and nearly spit out my tea by his words. I stare at him, eyes wide and mouth gaping. He pats me gently on the back and passes me some orange juice. I can't tell what he's thinking.

"That's if you want to stay." he adds. I glance up at him, trying to recover my equilibrium. His expression is unreadable. It's so frustrating.

"I'd like to stay for today. If that's okay. I have to work tomorrow."

"What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?"

"Nine."

"I'll get you to work by nine tomorrow."

I frown. _Does he really want me to stay another night?_

"I'll need to go home tonight... I need clean clothes."

"We can get you some here."

I don't have spare cash to spend on clothes. His hand comes up, and he grasps my chin, tugging it so my lip is released from the grip of my teeth. I'm not even aware that I was biting my lip again.

"What is it?" he asks.

"I need to be home this evening."

His mouth is a hard line, "Okay." he sighs, "This evening." he acquiesces. "Now eat you breakfast."

My thoughts and my stomach are in turmoil. My appetite has vanished. I stare mt my half-eaten breakfast. I'm just not hungry.

"Eat, Catherine. You didn't eat last night."

"I'm really not hungry." I whisper.

His eyes narrow, "I would really like you to finish your breakfast."

"What is it with you and food?" I blurt out. His brow knits.

"I told you, I have issues with wasted food. Eat." he snaps. His eyes dark, pained.

_Holy crap. What is that all about? _I pick up my fork and eat slowly, trying to chew. I must remember not to put so much on my plate if he's going to be weird about food. His expression softens as I carefully make my way through my breakfast. I note that he cleans his plate, then waits for me to finish, and clears my plate as well.

"You cooked, I'll clear."

"That's very democratic." I whisper.

"Yes." He frowns, "Not my usual style. After I've done this, we'll take a bath."

"Oh. Okay." _Oh my... I'd much rather have a shower. _My cell rings, interrupting my reverie. It's Tess.

"Hi." I wander over to the glass doors leading out to the balcony, away from Vincent.

"Cat, why didn't you text last night?" She's angry.

"I'm sorry, I was overtaken by events."

"You're okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine."

"Did you?" She's fishing for information. I roll my eyes at the expectation in her voice.

"Tess, I don't want to talk over the phone." Vincent glances up at me.

"You did... I can tell."

_How can she tell? She's bluffing, and I can't talk about this. I've signed a damned agreement._

"Tess, please."

"What was it like? Are you okay?"

"I've told you I'm okay."

"Was he gentle?"

"Tess, please!" I can't hide my exasperation.

"Cat, don't hold out on me, I've waited for this day for nearly four years."

"I'll see you this evening." I hang up.

That is going to be one difficult square to circle. She's so tenacious, and wants to know... in detail, and I can't tell her because I've signed a, what was it called? NDA. She'll freak and rightly so. I need a plan. I head back to watch Vincent move gracefully around his kitchen.

"The NDA, does it cover everything?" I ask tentatively.

"Why?" He turns and gazes at me while putting the Twinings away. I flush.

"Well, I have a few questions, you know, about sex." I stare at my fingers, "And I'd like to ask Tess."

"You can ask me."

"Vincent, with all due respect..." My voice fades. _I can't ask you! I'll get your biased, kinky-as-hell, distorted world-view regarding sex. I want an impartial opinion. _"It's just about mechanics. Look, I won't mention the Red Room of Pain."

He raises an eyebrow.

"Red Room of Pain? It's mostly about pleasure, Catherine. Believe me." he says, "Besides," his tone is harsher, "your roommate is making the beast with two backs with my brother. I'd really rather you didn't."

"Does your family know about your... uhm, predilection?"

"No. It's none of their business." He saunters toward me until he's standing in front of me.

"What do you want to know?" he asks, and raising his hand, runs his fingers gently down my cheek to my chin, tilting my head back so he can look directly into my eyes. I squirm inwardly. I can't lie to this man.

"Nothing specific at the moment." I whisper.

"Well, we can start with: How was last night for you?" His eyes burn, filled with curiosity. _He's anxious to know. Wow._

"Good." I murmur.

His lips lift slightly.

"Me, too." he murmurs, "I've never had vanilla sex before. There's a lot to be said for it. But then again, maybe it's because its' with you." He runs his thumb across my lower lip.

I inhale sharply. _Vanilla sex?_

"Come, let's have a bath." He leans down and kisses me. My heart leaps and desire pools way down low... way down _there._

* * *

><p>The bath is a white stone, deep, egg-shaped affair, very designer. Vincent leans over and fills it from the faucet on the tiled wall. He pours some expensive-looking bath oil into the water. It foams as the bath fills and smells of sweet, sultry jasmine. He stands and gazes at me, his eyes dark, thenpeels his T-shirt off and casts it on the floor.<p>

"Miss Chandler." He holds his hand out.

I'm standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and wary, my arms wrapped around myself. I step forward while admiring his physique. I take his hand, and he bids me to step into the bath while I am still wearing his white linen shirt. I do as I'm told. I'll have to get used to this if I'm going to take him up on his outrageous offer..._ if! _The water is enticingly hot.

"Turn around, face me." he orders, his voice soft. Again, I do as I'm told and he's watching me intently.

"I know that lip is delicious, I can attest to that, but will you stop biting it?" he says through clenched teeth, "Your chewing it makes me want to fuck you, and you're sore as it is, okay?"

I gasp, automatically, unlocking my lip, shocked.

"Yeah..." he challenges, "Get the picture?" He glares at me. I nod frantically. _I had no idea I could affect him so._

"Good." He reaches forward and takes my iPod from the breast pocket, placing it by the sink, "Water and iPods... not a clever combination." he mutters. He reaches down, grasping the hem of my shirt, and lifts it over my head, discarding it onto the floor.

He stands back to gaze at me. _I'm naked for heaven's sake! _I flush crimson and stare down at my hands, level with the base of my belly, and I desperately want to disappear into the hot water and foam, but I know he won't want that.

"Hey," he summons me. I peek up at him, and his head is cocked to one side, "Catherine, you're a very beautiful woman, the whole package. Don't hang your head like you're ashamed. You have nothing to be ashamed of, and it's a real joy to stand here and gaze at you." He takes my chin in his hand and tilts my head up to reach his eyes. They are soft and warm, heated even. He's so close. I could just reach up and touch him.

"You can sit down now." He halts my scattered thoughts, and I scoot down into the warm, welcoming water. _Ooh... it stings. _And that takes me by surprise, but it smells heavenly too. The initial smarting pain soon ebbs away. I lie back and briefly close my eyes, relaxing in the soothing warmth.

"Why don't you join me?" I ask, bravely I think... my voice husky.

"I think I will. Move forward." he orders.

He strips his pajama pants off and climbs in behind me. The water rises as he sits and pulls me against his chest. He places his long legs over mine, his knees bent and his ankles level with mine, and he pulls his feet apart, which opens my legs. I gasp in surprise. His nose is in my hair and he inhales deeply, "You smell so good, Catherine."

A tremor runs through my whole body. _I am naked in a bath with Vincent Keller. HE'S NAKED! _If someone had told me I'd be doing this when I woke up in his hotel suite yesterday, I would not have believed them.

He reaches for a bottle of body wash from the built-it shelf beside of the bath and squirts some into his hand. He rubs his hands together, creating a soft, foaming lather, and he closes his hands around my neck and starts rubbing the soap into my neck and shoulders, massaging with his long, strong fingers. I groan. _His hands on me feel so good._

"You like that?" he says soft. I can almost hear his smile.

"Hmm."

He moves down my arms, then beneath them to my underarms, washing gently. His hands glide across to my breasts, and I inhale sharply as his fingers encircle them and start kneading gently, taking no prisoners. My body bows instinctively, pushing my breasts into his hands. My nipples are tender... _very _tender, no doubt, from his less-than-delicate treatment of them last night.

He doesn't linger long and glides his hands down to my stomach and belly. My breathing increases and my heart is pounding against my chest. His now growing erection presses against my behind. It's such a turn-on knowing that it's my body making him feel this way. _Ha!... Not your mind, _my subconscious sneers. I shake off the unwelcome thought.

He stops and reaches for a washcloth as I pant against him, wanting... needing his touch. My hands rest on his firm, muscular thighs. Squirting more body wash onto the cloth, he leans down and washes between my legs. I hold my breath. His fingers skillfully stimulating me through the cloth, it's heavenly, and my hips start moving at their own rhythm, pushing against his hand. As the sensations take over, I tilt my head back, my eyes rolling to the back of my head, my mouth slack, and I groan. The pressure is building slowly, inexorably inside me... _oh my!_

"Feel it, Catherine." Vincent whispers in my ear, and very gently grazes my earlobe with his teeth, "Feel it for me." he adds.

My legs are pinioned by his to the side of the tub, holding me prisoner, giving him east access to this most private part of myself.

"Oh... Vincent, please." I whisper. I try to stiffen my legs as my body goes rigid. I am in a sexual thrall to this man, and he doesn't let me move.

"I think you're clean enough now." he murmurs, and he stops.

_What?! No! No! No! _My breathing is ragged.

"Why are you stopping?" I gasp.

_What... oh my... but... I was... that's not fair!_

"Turn around. I need washing, too." he mutters.

_Oh! _Turning to face him, I'm shocked to find he has his erection firmly in his grasp. My mouth drops open.

"I want you to become well acquainted, on first name terms if you will, with my favorite and most cherished part of my body. I'm very attached to this."

_Oh...my...GOD! It's so big, and GROWING! _His erection is above the water line, the water lapping at his hips. I glance up at him and come face-to-face with his wicked grin. He's enjoying my astounded expression. I realize that I'm staring. I swallow. _That was inside ME?! How is that even possible?! _He wants me to touch him. _Hmmm... okay, bring it on!_

I smile at him and grab the body wash, squirting soap into my hand. I do as he's done, lathering the soap in my hands until its foamy. I do not take my eyes off his. My lips are parted to accommodate my breathing... very deliberately I gently bite my bottom lip and then run my tongue across it, tracing where my teeth have been. His eyes are serious and dark, and they widen as my tongue skims my lower lip. I reach forward and place one of my hands around him, mirroring how he's holding himself. His eyes close briefly. _Wow... feels much firmer than I expected. _I squeeze, and he places his hand over mine.

"Like this." he whispers, and he moves his hand up and down with a firm grip around my fingers, and my fingers tighten around him. He closes his eyes again, and his breath hitches in his throat. When he opens them again, his gaze is scorching molten brown, "That's right, baby."

He releases my hand, leaving me to continue alone, and closes his eyes as I move up and down his length. He flexes his hips slightly and I grasp his tighter. A low groan escapes from deep within his throat. _Fuck my mouth?... Hmm... _I remember him pushing his thumb into my mouth and asking me to suck, hard. His mouth drops open as his breathing increases. I lean forward, while his eyes are still closed, and place my lips around him and tentatively suck, running my tongue over the tip.

"God... Catherine!" his eyes fly open, and I suck harder.

_Hmmm... he's hard and soft at once, like steel encased in velvet, and surprisingly tasty... salty and smooth._

"Christ!" he groans, and he closes his eyes again.

Moving down, I push him into my mouth. He groans again. _Ha! _My inner goddess is thrilled. _I can do this! I can fuck him with my mouth! _I twirl my tongue around the tip again, and he flexes and raises his hips. His eyes are open now, blistering with heat. His teeth are clenched as he flexes again, and I push him deeper into my mouth, supporting myself on his thighs. I feel his legs tense beneath my hands. He reaches up and grabs my pigtails and starts to really move.

"Oh...God... that feels so good." he murmurs. I suck harder, flicking my tongue across the head of his impressive erection. Wrapping my teeth behind my lips, I clamp my mouth around him. His breath hisses between his teeth, and he moans.

"Jesus, Catherine! How far can you go?" he whispers.

_Hmmm... _I pull him deeper into my mouth so I can feel him at the back of my throat and then to the front again. My tongue swirls around the end. He's my very own Vincent Keller-flavored popsicle. I suck harder and harder, pushing him deeper and deeper, swirling my tongue around and around him. _Hmmm... I had no idea giving pleasure could be such a turn-on, _watching him writhe subtly with carnal longing.

"Catherine, I'm going to get off in your mouth." his breathy tone is warning, "If you don't want me to, stop now." He thrusts his hips again, his eyes are wide, wary, and filled with salacious need... need for me. Need for my mouth... _oh my!_

His hands are really gripping my hair now. _I can do this!_ I push even harder and, in a moment of extraordinary confidence, I bare my teeth. It tips him over the edge. He cries out and stills, and I can feel warm, salty liquid oozing down my throat. I swallow quickly.

_Ugh... I'm not sure about this. _But one look at him, and I don't care... he's come apart in the bath because of _me. _I sit back and watch him, a triumphant, gloating smile tugging at the corners of my lips. His breathing is ragged. Opening his eyes, he glares at me.

"Don't you have a gag reflex?" he asks, astonished. "Christ, Cat... that was... good, _really _good. Unexpected though." he frowns, "You know, you never cease to amaze me."

I smile and consciously bite my lip. He eyes me speculatively.

"Have you done that before?" he asks.

"No." and I can't help the small tinge of pride in my denial.

"Good." he says relieved, "Yet another first, Miss Chandler." he looks appraisingly at me, "Well, you get an A in oral skills. Come, let's go to bed. I owe you an orgasm."

_Orgasm! Another one! Yes!_

Quickly he clambers out of the bath, giving me my first full glimpse of the Adonis, divinely formed that is Vincent Keller.

My inner goddess has stopped dancing and is staring too, open mouthed and drooling slightly. His erection tamed but still substantial... _WOW! _He wraps a small towel around his waist, covering the essentials, and holds out a large fluffy white towel for me. Climbing out of the bath, I tke his proffered hand. He wraps me in the towel, pulls me into his arms, and kisses me hard, pushing his tongue into my mouth. I long to reach around and embrace him... touch him... but he has my arms trapped in the towel. I'm soo lost in his kiss. He cradles my head, his tongue exploring my mouth, and I get a sense he's expressing his gratitude... maybe... for my first blow job? _Whoa!_

He pulls away, his hands on either side of my face, staring intently into my eyes. He looks lost.

"Say, yes." he whispers fervently.

I frown, not understanding.

"To what?"

"Yes to our arrangement. To being mine. Please, Catherine." he whispers pleading, emphasizing the last word and my name. He kisses me again, sweetly, passionately, before he stands back and stares at me, blinking slightly. He swoops me off the ground, cradling me in his arms, and carries me back into the bedroom. I'm stunned. _He really wants this._

* * *

><p>He places me back onto my feet in the bedroom and stares down at me as we stand by his bed.<p>

"Trust me?" he asks suddenly. I nod, wide-eyed with the sudden realization that I do trust him. _What's he going to do to me now? _An electric thrill hums through me.

"Good girl." he breathes, his thumb brushing my bottom lip. He steps away into his closet and comes back with a sliver-gray silk woven tie.

"Hold your hands together in front of you." he orders as he peels the towel off me and throws it on the floor.

I do as he asks, and he binds my wrists together with his tie, knotting it firmly. His eyes are bright with excitement. He tugs at the binding. It's secure. _Some Boy Scout he must have been to learn this knot. What now? _My pulse has gone through the roof, my heart beating out of my chest. He runs his fingers down my pigtails.

"You look so young with these." he murmurs, and moves forward. I move back until I feel the bed against the back of my knees. He drops his towel, but I can't take my eyes off his face. His expression is full of desire.

"Oh, Catherine... What shall I do to you?" he whispers as he lowers me onto the bed, lying beside me and raising my hands above my head.

"Keep your hands up here, don't move them, understand?" His eyes burn into mine, and I'm breathless from their intensity. _This is not a man I want to cross... ever! _

"Answer me." he demands, his voice soft.

"I won't move my hands." I'm breathless.

"Good girl." he murmurs, and licks his lips slowly. He's staring into my eyes, watching me, appraising. He leans down and places a chaste, soft kiss onto my lips.

"I'm going to kiss you all over, Miss Chandler." he says softly, and he cups my chin, pushing it up, giving him access to my throat. His lips glide down my throat, kissing, sucking, and nipping, to the small dip at the base of my neck. My body leaps into attention... _everywhere._My recent bath experience has made my skin hypersensitive. My heated blood pools low in my belly, between my legs, right down _there_. I moan.

I want to touch him. I move my hands and rather awkwardly, given I'm restrained, feel his hair. He stops kissing me and glares up at me, shaking his head from side to side, tutting as he does.

He reaches for my hands and places them back above my head again.

"Don't move your hands, or we just have to start all over again." he scolds me mildly. _Oh, he's such a tease... _

"But I want to touch you." my voice is all breathy and out of control.

"I know." he murmurs, "Keep your hands above your head." he orders, his voice forceful.

He repeats kissing me, starting under my chin again, moving slowly down my neck as before. _Oh... he's so frustrating... Sexually frustrating! _His hands run down my body and over my breasts as he reaches the dip at the base of my neck with his lips. He swirls the tip of his nose around it then begins a very leisurely cruise with his mouth, heading south, following the path of his hands, down my sternum to my breasts. Each one is kissed and nipped gently and my nipples tenderly sucked. _Holy crap! _My hips start swaying and moving of their own accord, grinding to the rhythm of his mouth on me, and I'm desperately trying to remember to keep my hands above my head.

"Keep still." he warns, his breath warm against my skin. Reaching my navel, he dips his tongue inside, and then gently grazes my belly with his teeth. My body bows off the bed in pure ecstasy.

"Hmm... you are so sweet, Miss Chandler." His nose glides along the line between my belly and my sex, biting me gently, teasing me with his tongue. Sitting up suddenly, he kneels at my feet, grasping both my ankles and spreading my legs wide.

_Holy shit! _He grabs my left foot, bends my knee, and brings my foot up to his mouth. Watching and assessing my every reaction, he tenderly kisses each of my toes, then bites each one of them softly on the pads. When he reaches my little toe, he bites harder, and I convulse, whimpering. He glides his tongue up my instep... and I can no longer watch him. It's too erotic. _I'm going to combust! _I squeeze my eyes shut and try to absorb and manage all the sensations he's creating. He kisses my ankle and trails kisses up my calf to my knee, stopping just above. He starts on my right foot, repeating the whole, seductive, mind-blowing process.

"Oh, God... Please!" I moan as he bites my little toe, the action resonating deep in my belly.

"All good things, Miss Chandler." he breathes.

This time he doesn't stop at my knee, he continues up the inside of my thigh, pushing my thighs apart as he does. And I know what he's going to do, and part of my wants to push him off because I'm mortified and embarrassed. He's going to kiss me _there!_ I know it. And part of me is glorying in the anticipation. He turns to my other knee and kisses his way up my thigh, kissing, licking, sucking, and then he's between my legs, running his nose up and down my sex, very softly, very gently. I writhe... _Oh my God!_

"Do you know how intoxicating you smell, Miss Chandler?" he murmurs, and keeping his eyes on mine, he pushes his nose up my sex again.

"Vincent, please!" I beg.

He stops, waiting for me to calm. I do and raise my head to gaze at him, my mouth open as my pounding heart struggles to calm.

"Well, do you?" he asks again.

I flush scarlet everywhere, feeling faint, and I instantly close my eyes._ I can't watch him do that! _

He blows gently up the length of my sex. _Oh fuck!... _

"Oh... please!" I beg again. I want him... _need_ him to release me from this torturous seduction.

"Hmm, I like it when you beg me, Catherine."

I groan.

"Tit for tat is not my usual style, Miss Chandler." he whispers as he gently blows up and down me, "But you've pleased me today, and you should be rewarded." I hear the wicked grin in his voice, and while my body is singing from his words, his tongue starts to slowly circle my clitoris as his hands hold down my thighs.

"Aargh!" I moan as my body bows and convulses at the touch of his tongue.

He swirls his tongue around and around, again and again, keeping up the torture. I'm losing my fucking mind! Losing all sense of self, every atom of my being concentrating on that small, potent powerhouse at the apex of my thighs. My legs go rigid, and he slips his fingers inside me, and I hear his growling groan.

"Oh, Catherine... I love that you're so wet for me."

He moves his finger in a wide circle, stretching me, pulling at me, his tongue mirroring his actions, around and around. I groan. It is too much... My body begs for relief, and I can no longer deny it. I let go, losing all cogent thought as my orgasm seizes me, wringing my insides again and again. _Holy fuck! _I cry out, and he world dips and disappears from view as the force of my climax renders everything null and void.

I'm panting and vaguely hear the rip of foil. Very slowly he eases into me and starts to move. _Oh...my. _The feeling is sore and sweet and bold and gentle all at once.

"How's this?" he breathes.

"Hmm, good." I breathe. And he really starts to move, fast, hard, and large, thrusting into me over and over, implacable, pushing me and pushing until I'm close to the edge again. I whimper a cry of sweet sensations.

"Come for me, baby." His voice is harsh, hard, raw at my ear, and I explode around him as he pounds even harder into me.

"Thank fuck." he whispers, and he thrusts hard once more, groaning and moaning as he reaches his climax, pressing himself into me. Then he stills, his body rigid.

Collapsing on top of me, I feel his full weight forcing me into the mattress. I pull my tied hands over his neck and hold him the best I can. I know in that moment that I would do anything for this man. _I am his._ The wonder that he's introduced me to, it's beyond anything I could have imagined. And he wants to take it further, so much further, to a place I can't, in my innocence, even imagine. _Oh... what am I going to do?_

He leans up on his elbows and stares down at me, brown eyes intense.

"See how good we are together?" he murmurs, "If you give yourself to me, it will be so much better. Trust me, Catherine, I can take you places you don't even know exist." His words echo my thoughts. He strokes his nose against mine. I'm still reeling from my extraordinary physical reaction to him, and I gaze up at him blankly, grasping for a coherent thought.

Suddenly we both become aware of voices in the hall outside his bedroom door. It takes a moment to process what I can hear.

"_But if he's still in bed, then he must be ill. He's never in bed at this time. Vincent never sleeps."_

"_Mrs. Keller, please."_

"_Sam, you cannot keep me from my son!"_

"_Mrs. Keller, he's not alone."_

"_What do you mean he's not alone?"_

"_He has someone with him."_

"_Oh..."_

Even I hear the disbelief in her voice. Vincent blinks rapidly, staring down at me, wide-eyed with humored horror.

"Shit! It's my mother!"

* * *

><p><em><strong>**Okay, so I didn't take much of a break... I could not resist MWAHAHAHA! Love you guys, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Denise? Are you still alive? I know this is your favorite part from the book and I know adding VinCat to the equation probably took you completely out lmao! I love you sweetheart! XOXO! REVIEWS DAMMIT! O.O oops, sorry... I felt a little dominant for a second hehe ;) **<strong>_


	10. Chapter 10

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*WARNING:<strong>** The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, ****graphic sexual content, and DOM/SUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*Extra:<strong>** I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: This is not Tiffany... she died while writing the last chapter... this is her ghost... Enjoy the next chapter! LMAO! Oh, and yes Denise, we are totally going to hell together in a hand-basket ROTFLMFAO! Lauren, I am so glad that I could make you laugh hun. I am a person who has a very huge sense of humor. I like making ppl laugh hehe. Anyways, enough of my rambling... My dominant side says, READ NOW! O.O)**

_Italics represent Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 10-<strong>_

Vincent pulls out of me suddenly and tosses the used condom into a waistbasket in a rush, "Come on, we need to get dressed... that's if you want to meet my mother." He grins, leaps off the bed, and pulls on his jeans... _no underwear! _

I struggle to sit up as I'm still tethered, "Vincent, I can't move."

His grin widens and leaning down, he undoes the tie. The woven pattern has made and indention around my wrists. It's... sexy. He gazes at me, amused, his eyes dancing with mirth. He kisses my forehead quickly and beams at me, "Another first." he acknowledges, but I have no clue as to what he's talking about.

"I have no clean clothes in here." I say panicked. And considering what I've just experianced, I'm finding the panic overwhelming. _His mother?! Holy crap! _I have no clothes and she's practically walked in on us in flagrante delicto, "Perhaps I should stay here." I murmur. His eyes narrow.

"Oh, no you don't." Vincent threatens, "You can wear something of mine." He slips on a white T-shirt and runs his hand through his just-fucked hair. In spite of my anxiety, I lose my train of thought gazing at him. His beauty is derailing.

"Catherine, you could be wearing a sack and you'd still be smoking hot. Please, don't worry about it. I'd like you to meet my mother. Get dressed. I'll go out and calm her down." His mouth presses into a hard line. _Smoking hot? He thinks I'm smoking hot?! Oh, my! _

"I will expect you in that room in five minutes, otherwise I'll come and drag you out of here myself in whatever you're wearing. My T-shirts are in this drawer. My shirts are in the closet. Help yourself." He says, eyeing me intently. He turns and leaves the room, and I begin to panic again.

_Holy shit! Vincent's mother! _This is so much more than I bargained for. Maybe if I meet her it will help put a little part of the jigsaw in place. Might even help me figure out why Vincent is the way he is... Suddenly my anxiety fades away and I want to meet her. I grab my shirt off the floor and am glad that it survived the night well with hardly any creases. I find my pale blue bra under the bed and quickly put it on. But if it's one thing I hate, it's not wearing clean panties. I search Vincent's drawer frantically and come across his boxer briefs, grabbing a pair of gray ones and slipping them on. _Calvin Kleins, nice! _I tug on my jeans, and slip on my Converse shoes.

Grabbing my jacket, I dash into the bathroom and stare at my too-bright-eyes, my flushed face... and my hair! _Just-fucked pigtails! _I hunt the vanity for a brush but find a comb instead. _It will have to do_. I quickly tie my hair into a pretty-yet-messy bun while I despair my clothing. _Maybe I should take Vincent up on his offer to buy me clothing. _My subconscious purses her lips and mouths the words 'ho'. I ignore her. Struggling into my jacket, I feel slightly relieved that the cuffs cover the telltale patterns from his tie, I take a last anxious glance at myself in the mirror. _This will have to do_. I make my way into the main living room.

* * *

><p>"Here she is." Vincent stands from where he's lounging on the couch.<p>

His expression is warm and appreciative. The sandy-haired woman beside him turns and stands as well, beaming at me, a full megawatt smile. She's impeccably attired in a camel-colored fine knit sweater dress with matching heels. She looks like a goddess... Fully groomed, elegant, beautiful... and inside I die a little, knowing I look such a mess.

"Mother, this is Catherine Chandler. Catherine, this is Marianne Rene Keller, my mother."

Dr. Keller holds her hand out to me, "What a pleasure to meet you." she murmurs. If I'm not mistaken, there is wonder and maybe stunned relief in her voice and a warm glow in her hazel-green eyes. I grasp her hand, and I can't help but smile, returning her warmth.

"Dr. Keller." I murmur.

"Please, call me Mary." She grins, and Vincent frowns, "I am usually Dr. Keller, and Mrs. Keller is my mother-in-law." she winks. "So, how did you two meet?" She looks questioningly at Vincent, unable to hide her curiosity.

"Catherine interviewed me for the student paper at WSU because I'm conferring the degrees there this week."

_Double crap. _I'd forgotten about that.

"So you are graduating this week?" Mary asks.

"Yes."

My cell phone starts ringing. _Tess, I bet!_

"Excuse me." I say with an apologetic smile. It's in the kitchen. I wander over to the breakfast bar and pick up my phone, answering it without looking at the caller ID, "Tess."

"Dios mio! Cat!" _Holy crap! It's Patrick! _He sounds desperate, "Where are you? I've been trying to contact you. I need to see you, to apologize for my behavior on Friday. Why haven't you returned my calls?"

"Look, Patrick, now's not a good time." I glance up anxiously over at Vincent, who's watching me intently, his face impassive as he murmurs something to his mom. I turn my back to him.

"Where are you? Tess is being so evasive." he whines.

"I'm in Seattle."

"What are you doing in Seattle? Are you with _him_?"

"Patrick, I'll call you later. I can't talk to you right now." I hang up.

I walk nonchalantly back to Vincent and his mother. Mary is in full flow, "...and JT called to say you were around. I haven't seen you for two weeks, darling."

"Did he now?" Vincent mumbles, gazing at me, his expression unreadable as usual.

"I thought we might have lunch together, but I can see that you have other plans, and I don't want to interrupt your day." She gathers up her long cream coat and turns to him, offering him her cheek. He kisses her briefly, sweetly. She doesn't touch him.

"I have to drive Catherine back to Portland."

"Of course, darling. Catherine, it's been such a pleasure. I do hope we meet again." She holds her hand out to me, her eyes glowing, and we shake.

Sam appears from... _where?_

"Mrs. Keller?" he asks.

"Thank you, Sam." He escorts her from the room and through the double doors to the foyer._ Sam was here the whole time? How long has he been standing there, unnoticed? Where was he exactly?_

Vincent glares at me, "So the photographer called?"

_Crap!_

"Yes."

"What did he want?"

"Just to apologize, you know. For Friday."

Vincent narrows his eyes, "I see." he says simply.

Sam reappears, "Mr. Keller, there's an issue with the Darfur shipment."

Vincent nods curtly at him, "Charlie Tango back at Boeing Field?"

"Yes, sir." Sam says. He nods at me, "Miss Chandler."

I smile tentatively back at him, and he turns and leaves.

"Does he live here? Sam?"

"Yeah." His tone is clipped. _What is his problem?_

Vincent heads over to the kitchen and picks up his BlackBerry, scrolling through some E-mails I assume. Hie mouth presses into a firm, hard line and he makes a call.

"Ros, what's the issue?" he snaps. He listens, watching me, eyes speculative, as I stand in the middle of the huge room wondering what to do with myself, feeling extraordinarily self-conscious and out of place.

"I'm not having either crew put at risk. No, cancel... We'll air-drop instead... Good." He hangs up. The warmth in his eyes has disappeared. He looks forbidding, and with one quick glance at me, he heads into his study and returns a moment later.

"This is the contract. Read it, and we'll discuss it next weekend. May I suggest you do some research, so you know what's involved." He pauses, "That's if you agree, and I really hope you do." he adds, his tone softer, anxious.

"Research?"

"You'll be amazed what you can find on the Internet." he murmurs.

_Internet!_ I don't have access to a computer, only Tess' laptop, and I couldn't use the one at Clayton's, not for this sort of research surely.

"What is it?" he asks, cocking his head to one side.

"I don't have a computer. I usually use the computers at school. I'll see if I can use Tess' laptop."

He hands me a manilla envelope, "I'm sure I can... er... lend you one. Get your things, we'll drive back to Portland and grab some lunch on the way. I need to dress.

"I'll just just make a call." I murmur. I just want to hear Tess' voice. He frowns.

"The photographer?" His jaw clenches and his eyes burn. I blink at him. "I don't like to share, Miss Chandler. Remember that." His quiet, chilling tone is a warning, and with one long, cold look at me, he heads back to his bedroom.

_Jesus! I just wanted to call Tess! _A part of me wants to call him back, but his sudden aloofness has left me paralyzed. _What happened to the generous, relaxed, smiling man who was making love to me not half an hour ago?_

* * *

><p>"Ready?" Vincent asks as we stand by the double doors to the foyer.<p>

I nod uncertainly. He's resumed his distant, polite, uptight persona, his mask back up and on show. He's carrying a leather messenger bag. _Why does he need that? _Perhaps he's staying in Portland, and then I remember graduation. _Ah, yes... he'll be there on Thursday. _He's wearing a black leather jacket, and right now, he doesn't look like the multi-multimillionaire, billionaire, whatever-aire, in these clothes. He looks like a boy from the wrong side of the tracks, maybe a badly behaved rock star or a catwalk model. I sigh inwardly, wishing I had a tenth of his poise. He's so calm and controlled. I frown, recalling his outburst about Patrick... _Well, he seems to be._

Sam is hovering in the background.

"Tomorrow then." he says to Sam, who nods.

"Yes, sir. Which car are you taking, sir?"

He looks down at me briefly.

"The R8."

"Safe trip, Mr. Keller. Miss Chandler." Sam looks kindly at me, though perhaps there's a hint of pity hidden in the depths of his eyes.

No doubt he thinks I have succumbed to Vincent's dubious sexual habits. _Not yet_, just his _exceptional _sexual habits, or perhaps sex is like that for everyone. I frown at the thought. I have no comparison, and I can't talk to Tess. That's just something I'm going to have to address with Vincent. It's perfectly natural that I should talk to someone... and I can't talk to him if he's open one minute and standoffish the next.

Sam holds the door open for us and ushers us through. Vincent summons the elevator.

"What is it, Catherine?" he asks. _How does he know I'm chewing something over in my mind? _He reaches up and pulls my chin.

"Stop biting your lip, or I will fuck you in the elevator, and I don't care who gets in with us."

I blush, but there's a hint of a smile around his lips. Finally his mood seems to be shifting.

"Vincent, I have a problem."

"Oh?" I have his full attention.

The elevator arrives. We walk in, and Vincent presses the button marked 'G'.

"Well..." I flush. _How to say this? _"I need to talk to Tess. I've so many questions about sex, and you're too involved. If you want me to do all these things, how do I know...?" I pause, struggling to find the right words, "I just don't have any terms of reference."

He rolls his eyes at me, "Talk to her if you must." He sounds exasperated, "Make sure she doesn't mention anything to JT."

I bristle at his insinuation. _Tess isn't like that._

"She wouldn't do that, and I wouldn't tell you anything she tells me about JT... if she were to tell me anything." I add quickly.

"Well, the difference is that I don't want to know about his sex life." Vincent murmurs dryly, "JT's a nosy bastard. But only about what we've done so far." he warns. "She'd probably have my balls if she knew what I wanted to do to you." he adds so softly that I'm not sure if I am supposed to hear it.

"Okay." I agree readily, smiling up at him, relieved. The thought of Tess with Vincent's balls is not something I want to dwell on.

His lip quirks up at me, and he shakes his head, "The sooner I have your submission, the better, and we can stop all of this." he murmurs.

"Stop all of what?"

"You defying me." He reaches down and cups my chin and plants a swift, sweet kiss on my lips as the doors to the elevator open. He grabs my hand and leads me into the underground garage.

_Me, defying him? How?_

Beside the elevator, I can see the black 4x4 Audi, but its the sleek black sporty number that blips open and lights up when he points the key fob at it. It's one of those types of cars that long-legged blondes would own, wearing a sash, sprawled out on the hood.

"Nice car." I murmur dryly.

He glances up and grins, "I know." he says, and for a split second, sweet, young, carefree Vincent is back. It warms my heart. He's so excited. _Boys and their toys, Jeez! _I roll my eyes at him but can't stifle my smile. He opens the door for me and I climb in. _Whoa, its low... _He moves around the car with easy grace and folds his long frame elegantly in beside me. _How does he do that?_

"So what kind of car is this?" I ask.

"It's an Audi R8 Spyder. It's a lovely day; we can take the top down. There's a baseball cap in there. In fact there should be two." He points to the glove box, "And sunglasses if you want them."

He starts the car, and the engine roars behind us. He places his bag in the space behind our seats, presses a button, and the roof slowly retracts. With the flick of a switch, Bruce Springsteen surrounds us.

"Gotta love Bruce." He grins at me and eases the car out of the parking space and up a ramp where we pause for the gate to lift.

Then finally, we're out in the warm, bright Seattle May morning. I reach into the glove box and grab the ball caps. _The Mariners. He likes baseball? _I pass him a cap, and her puts it on. I pull my hair through the back of mine and pull the peak down low.

People stare at us as we drive through the streets. For a moment, I think its at him... and then a very paranoid part of me thinks they are staring at me because they know what I've been doing during the last twelve hours, but finally I realize it's the car. Vincent seems oblivious, lost in thought.

The traffic is light and we're soon on Interstate 5 heading south, the wind sweeping over our heads. Bruce is singing about being on fire and his desire. How apt. I flush as I listen to the words. Vincent glances at me. He's got his Ray-Bans on so I can't see what he's feeling. His mouth twitches slightly, and he reaches across and places his hand on my knee, squeezing gently. My breath hitches.

"Hungry?" he asks.

_Not for food._

"Not particularly."

His mouth tightens into that hard line.

"You need to eat, Catherine." he chides, "I know a great place near Olympia. We'll stop there." He squeezes my knee again, and then returns his hand to the steering wheel as he puts his foot down on the gas. I'm pressed into the back of my seat. _Boy, this car can move._

* * *

><p>The restaurant is small and intimate, a wooden chalet in the middle of a forest. The décor is rustic: random chairs and tables with gingham tablecloths, wild flowers in little vases, <strong>CUISINE SAUVAGE <strong>boasts above the door.

"I've not been here for a while. We don't get a choice... they cook whatever they've caught or gathered." He raises his eyebrows in mock horror, and I have to laugh. The waitress takes our drinks order. She flushes when she sees Vincent, avoiding eye contact with him, hiding under her long blond bangs._ She likes him! It's not just me! _

"Two glasses of the Pinot Grigio." Vincent says with a voice of authority. I purse my lips, exasperated.

"What?" he snaps.

"I wanted a Diet Coke." I whisper.

His brown eyes narrow, and he shakes his head, "The Pinot Grigio here is a decent wine. It will go well with the meal, whatever we get." he says patiently.

"Whatever we get?"

"Yes." he smiles his dazzling head-cocked-to-one-side smile, and my stomach pole vaults over my spleen. I can't help but reflect his glorious smile back at him.

"My mother liked you." he says dryly.

"Really?" His words make me flush with pleasure.

"Oh yeah. She's always thought I was gay."

My mouth drops open, and I remember _that question... from the interview. Oh no._

"Why did she think you were gay?" I whisper.

"Because she's never seen me with a girl."

"Oh... not even one of the fifteen?"

He smiles, "You remembered. No, none of the fifteen."

"Oh."

"You know, Catherine... It's been a weekend of firsts for me, too." he says quietly.

"It has?" _Wow!_

"I've never slept with anyone, never had sex in my bed, never flown a girl in Charlie Tango, never introduced a woman to my mother." He takes a deep breath, and sighs heavily, gazing at me, "What are you doing to me?" his eyes burn into my soul, their intensity takes my breath away.

The waitress arrives with our glasses of wine, and I immediately take a quick sip. _Is he opening up, or making a casual observation? _

"I've really enjoyed this weekend." I murmur. He narrows his eyes at me again.

"Stop biting that lip." he growls, "Me, too." he adds.

"What's vanilla sex?" I ask, if anything to distract myself from the intense, burning, sexy look he's giving me. He laughs.

"Just straightforward sex, Catherine. No toys, no add-ons." He shrugs, "You know... well, actually you don't, but that's what it means."

"Oh."_ I thought it was chocolate fudge brownie sex that we had, with a cherry on top. But hey, what do I know? _

The waitress brings us soup. We both stare at it rather dubiously.

"Nettle soup." the waitress informs us, then turns to flounce back into the kitchen. I don't think she likes being ignored by Vincent. I take a tentative taste, and oh, it's so delicious. Vincent and I look up at each other at the same time with relief. I giggle, and he cocks his head to one side.

"That's a lovely sound." he smiles.

"Why have you never had vanilla sex before? Have you always done... er, what you've done?" I ask, intrigued.

He nods slowly, "Sort of." His voice is wary. He frowns for a moment and seems to be engaged in some kind of internal struggle. Then he glances up, a decision made, "One of my mother's friends seduced me when I was fifteen."

"Oh..." _Holy fuck! That's young!_

"She had very particular tastes. I was her submissive for six years." he shrugs.

"Oh." My brain has frozen, stunned into inactivity by this admission.

"So I do know what it involves, Catherine." His eyes glow with insight. I stare at him, unable to articulate anything... even my subconscious is silent.

"I didn't really have a run-of-the-mill introduction to sex."

Curiosity kicks in big time, "So you never dated anyone at college?"

"No." He shakes his head.

The waitress takes our bowls, interrupting us for a moment.

"Why?" I ask when she's gone.

He smiles sardonically, "Do you really want to know?"

"Yes."

"I didn't want to. She was all I wanted, needed. And besides, she'd have beaten the shit out of me." He smiles fondly at the memory.

_Oh, this is was too much information... _but oddly, I want more.

"So if she was a friend of your mother's, how old was she?"

He smirks, "Old enough to know better."

"Do you still see her?" _Oh God, please no!_

"Yes."

_What?!_

"Do you still...er...?" I flush.

"No." he shakes his head and smiles indulgently at me, "She's a very good friend."

"Oh. Does your mother know?"

He gives me a don't-be-stupid stare, "Of course not."

The waitress returns with venison, but my appetite has vanished. What a revelation. _Vincent the submissive... Holy shit. _I take a large slug of wine... he's right, of course, it's delicious. _Jeez, all these revelations, it's so much to think about. _I need time to process this, when I'm on my own, without his distracting presence. He's so overwhelming, so alpha male, and now he's thrown this bombshell into the equation. _He knows what it's like._

"But it can't have been full time?" I'm confused.

"Well, it was, though I didn't see her all the time. It was... difficult. After-all, I was still at school and then at college. Eat up, Catherine."

"I'm really not hungry, Vincent." _I am reeling from your disclosure._

His expression hardens, "Eat." he says quietly, too quietly. I stare at him. This man... sexually abused as an adolescent... his tone is so threatening.

"Give me a moment." I mutter quietly. He blinks a couple of times, "Okay." he murmurs, and he continues with his meal.

This is what it will be like if I sign, him ordering me around. I frown. _Do I want this? _Reaching for my knife and fork, I tentatively cut through the venison. It's very tasty.

"Is this what our, er... relationship will be like?" I whisper, "You ordering me around?" I can't quite bring myself to look at him.

"Yes." he murmurs.

"I see."

"And what's more, you'll want me to." he adds, his voice low.

_I sincerely doubt that. _I slice another piece of venison, holding it against my mouth.

"It's a big step." I murmur, and eat.

"It is." He closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them, they are wide and grave. "Catherine, you have to go with your gut. Do the research, read the contract... I'm happy to discuss any aspect. I'll be in Portland until Friday if you want to talk about it before then." His words are coming at me in a rush, "Call me... maybe we can have dinner... say, Wednesday? I really want to make this work. In fact, I've never wanted anything as much as I want this to work."

His burning gaze is reflected in his eyes. This is fundamentally what I don't grasp. _Why me? Why not one of the fifteen? Oh no... Will that be me? A number? Sixteen of many?_

"What happened to the fifteen?" I blurt out.

He raises his eyebrows in surprise, then looks resigned, shaking his head, "Various things, but it boils down to..." he pauses, struggling to find the words to say, "Incompatibility." He shrugs.

"And you think that I might be compatible with you?"

"Yes."

"So you're not seeing any of them anymore?"

"No, Catherine, I'm not. I am monogamous in my relationships."

_Oh... this is news._

"I see."

"Do the research, Catherine."

I put my fork down. I can't eat anymore.

"That's it? That's all you're going to eat?"

I nod. He scowls at me but chooses not to say anything. I breathe a small sigh of relief. My stomach is churning with all this new information. I watch as he devours everything on his plate. He eats like a horse. He must work out to stay in such great shape. The memory of the way his pajama pants hang from his hips comes unbidden to my mind. The image is totally distracting. I squirm uncomfortably. He glances up at me, and I blush.

"I'd give anything to know what you're thinking right at this moment." he murmurs. I blush further.

He smiles a wicked smile at me.

"I can guess." he teases softly.

"I'm glad that you can't read my mind."

"Your mind? No, Catherine... but your body? _That _I've gotten to know quite well since yesterday." His voice is suggestive. _How does he switch so quickly from one mood to the next? He's so bipolar! _It's hard to keep up.

He motions for the waitress and asks for the check. Once he's paid, he stands and reaches a hand out for me, "Come on." he says lowly, yet soft. I place my hand in his, and he leads me back to the car. This contact, flesh-to-flesh, it's so unexpected from him, normal, intimate. I can't recocile this prdinary, tender gesture with what he wants to do in that room... the Red Room of Pain.

* * *

><p>It's quiet during the drive to Vancouver, both of us seem lost in our own thoughts. When he parks outside of my apartment, it's five in the evening. The lights are on, Tess is home. Packing no doubt, unless JT is still here. He switches off the engine, and I realize I'm going to have to leave him.<p>

"Do you want to come in?" I ask. I don't want him to go. I want to prolong our time together.

"No, I have work to do." he says simply, gazing at me, his expression unfathomable.

I stare down at my hands, as I knot my fingers together. Suddenly I feel emotional. _He's leaving. _Reaching over, he takes one of my hands and slowly pulls it to his lips, tenderly kissing my knuckles and the back of my hand. Such an old-fashioned, sweet gesture. My heart leaps into my mouth.

"Thank you for this weekend, Catherine. It's been... the best. Wednesday? I'll pick you up from work, from wherever?" he says softly.

"Wednesday." I whisper.

He kisses my hand again and places it back in my lap. He climbs out of the car and opens the door for me to get out. _Why do I feel suddenly bereft? _A lump forms in my throat. I must not let him see me like this. Fixing a smile on my face, I slide out of the car and head up the path, knowing I now have to face Tess. _I'm totally dreading this!_ I turn and gaze at him midway. _Chin up, Chandler. _I chide myself.

"Oh...by the way," I say, grasping his full attention, "I'm wearing your underwear." I give him a small smile and pull up the waist band of the boxer briefs I'm wearing so he can see. Vincent's mouth drops open, shocked. What a great reaction. My mood shifts immediately, and I sashay into the house, part of me wanting to jump and punch the air. _YES! _My inner goddess is thrilled.

* * *

><p>Tess is in the living room packing up her books into crates, "You're back. Where's Vincent? How are you?" her voice is fevered, anxious, and she bounds up to me, grabbing my shoulders, minutely analyzing my face before I've even said hello.<p>

_Crap... I have to deal with Tess' persistence and tenacity, and I'm in possession of a signed legal document saying I can't talk. _It's not a healthy mix.

"Well, how was it? I couldn't stop thinking about you, after JT left, that is." she grins mischieviously.

"It was good, Tess. Very good, I think." I say quietly, trying to hide my embarrassed tell-all amile.

"You think?"

"I've got nothing to compare this to, do I?" I shrug apologetically.

"Did he make you get-off?"

_WTF?! She's so blunt! _I blush.

"Yes." I mumble, exasperated.

Tess pulls me to the couch and we sit. She clasps my hands, "That is _good_." Tess looks at me in disbelief, "It was your first time. Wow, Vincent must really know what he's doing."

_Oh, Tess... If only you knew._

"My first time was horrid." she continues, making a sad comedy face.

"Oh?" This has me interested, something she's never divulged before.

"Yes, Zachary Rider. High school, dickless jock!" she shudders, "He was rough. I wasn't ready. We were both drunk. You know... typical teenage post-prom disaster. Ugh... it took me months before I decided to have another go. And not with him, the gutless wonder. I was too young. You were right to wait."

"Tess, that sounds awful."

Tess looks wistful.

"Yeah, took almost a year to have my first orgasm through penetrative sex, and here you are... first time?"

I nod shyly. My inner goddess sits in the lotus position looking serene except for the sly, self-congradulatory smile on her face.

"I'm glad you lost it to someone who knows his ass from his elbow." she winks at me, "So when are you seeing him again?"

"Wednesday. We're having dinner."

"So you still like him?"

"Yes. But I don't know about... the future."

"Why?" she asks.

"He's complicated, Tess. You know... he inhabits a very different world to mine." Great excuse. Believable too. Much better than: _He's got a Red Room of Pain, and he wants to make me his sex slave._

"Oh, please. Don't let this be about money, Cat. JT said it's very unusual for Vincent to date anyone."

"Did he?" My voice hitches up several octaves.

_Too obvious, Chandler! _My subconscious glares at me, wagging her long, skinny finger, then morphs into the scales of justice to remind me that he could sue if I disclose too much. _Ha! What's he going to do? Take all my money? _I must remember to Google '_penalties for breaching a nondisclosure agreement' _while I'm doing my 'research'. It's like I've been given a damn school assignment. Maybe I'll be graded. I flush, remembering my A for this morning's bath experiment.

"Cat, what is it?"

"I'm remembering something Vincent said."

"You look different." Tess says fondly.

"I feel different. Sore." I confess.

"Sore?"

"A little." I flush.

"Me, too... Men." she says in mock disgust, "They're animals." We both laugh.

"You're sore?" I exclaim.

"Yes... overuse."

I giggle.

"Tell me about JT the overuser?" I ask.

* * *

><p>As Tess goes through the details of her romantic night with JT, I can't help but feel even more jealous. She gets to have a normal relationship, while I play the role of a submissive. Nothing more, nothing less. Maybe it's not so bad after-all. Maybe I want this type of relationship as bad as Vincent does. Maybe deep down I am attracted to the whole submissive thing, then again, it scares me to death.<p>

_What if he hurts me? Would he? Would he really hurt me?_

I notice some letters on the table addressed to me and pick them up, opening them, one-by-one. I look up at Tess and she stops talking about her relationship with JT, "What is it Cat?"

"I have interviews! The week after next, in Seattle, for intern placements!" I practically scream with joy.

She smiles, "For which publishing house?"

"For both of them!" _Oh my God! _

"I told you your GPA would open doors, Cat."

Tess of course already had an internship set up at The Seattle Times. Her father knows someone who knows someone.

"How does JT feel about you going away?" I ask.

She frowns, looking down at her hands, then gets up, heading into the kitchen, "He, uhm... He's understanding. Part of me doesn't want to go, but it's tempting to lie in the sun for a couple of weeks. Besides, Mom is hanging in there, thinking this will be our last real family holiday before Tim and I head off into the world of paid employment."

I have never left the continental U.S. Tess is off to Barbados with her parents and her brother, Tim, for two whole weeks. I'll be Tess-less in our new apartment. That will be weird. Tim has been traveling the world since he graduated last year. I wonder briefly if I'll see him before they go on vacation. He's such a lovely guy. The phone rings, jolting me from my thoughts.

"That'll be Patrick." Tess sighs with a just-talk-to-him-already-so-he'll-stop-calling smile.

I sigh, but I know that I have to talk to him eventually. I grab the phone, "Hi." I murmur.

"Cat, you're back!" Patrick shouts his relief at me.

"Obviously." Sarcasm drips from my voice, and I roll my eyes. He's silent for a second.

"Can I, see you? I'm sorry about Friday night. I was drunk... and you... well. Catherine, please forgive me."

"Of course I forgive you, Patrick. Just don't do it again. You know I don't feel that way about you."

He sighs heavily, sadly, "I know, Cat. I just thought if I kissed you, it might change how you feel."

"Patrick, I love you dearly, you mean so much to me. You're like the brother I never had. That's not going to change. You know that." I hate to let him down, but it's the truth.

"So you're with him now?" His tone is full of disdain.

"Patrick, I'm not with anybody."

"But you spent the night with him."

"That's none of your business." I hiss, angry now.

"Is it the money?"

"Patrick! How dare you!" I shout, staggered by his audacity.

"Cat..." he whines and apologizes. I can't deal with his petty jealousy now. I know he's hurt, but my plate is overflowing dealing with Vincent Keller.

"Maybe we can have a coffee of something tomorrow. I'll call you." I am conciliatory. He is my friend, and I'm very fond of him. But right now, I don't need this.

"Tomorrow, then. You'll call?" The hope in his voice twists my heart.

"Yes... good night, Patrick." I hang up, not waiting for his response.

"What was that all about?" Tess asks, demanding as usual.

"Patrick made a pass at me on Friday." I say, embarrassed.

"Patrick? _And _Vincent Keller? Catherine Chandler, your pheromones must be working overtime. What was the stupid fool thinking?!" She shakes her head in disgust and stands to stretch, "Cat, I'm off to bed... I'm pretty tired."

"I'm heading that way myself. Night Tess."

"Night." she hugs me, "I'm glad that you're back in one piece. There's something about Vincent..." she adds quietly, apologetically. I give her a small reassuring smile... all the while thinking, _How the hell does she know? _This is what will make her a great journalist, her unfaltering intuition.

I flop onto my bed, and pull the manilla envelope out of my purse. I begin turning it in my hands, over and over and over. _Is this what I want? Can I actually do this? _I sigh and frown.

"Okay, Keller. Let's see what you have in here for me." I whisper to myself as I open the envelope and pull out the contract to our arrangement.

* * *

><p><em><strong>**I know this chapter didn't have a lot of VinCat, but it had to be done. Not too sure when I'll update again. My 6 year old has pulled a muscle in her neck pretty bad and she needs her momma. Anyways, I will try to get back on as soon as I can. Love you all! Hope you enjoyed it. REVIEWS!**<strong>_


	11. Chapter 11

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*WARNING:<strong>** The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, ****graphic sexual content, and DOM/SUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*Extra:<strong>** I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: Thank you all for the reviews lol. Lavonce, I know what ya mean. In the book, I died laughing at her subconscious/inner goddess almost every time haha. Just wait til the E-mails start between them LMAO its adorable, yet funny as hell. Anyways, my daughter feels slightly better this morning. I am writing while they all are asleep at the moment. Hehe... This story will be long, so be expecting A LOT of chapters. Anyways, enjoy. XOXO!)**

_Italics represent Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 11-<strong>_

There are several papers inside the manilla envelope. I fish them out, one by one, my heart beating against my chest, and begin reading them...

* * *

><p><strong>CONTRACT<strong>

Made this day of 2011 ("The Commencement Date")

**BETWEEN**

MR. VINCENT KELLER of 301 Escala, Seattle, WA 98889 ("The Dominant")

MISS CATHERINE CHANDLER of 1114 SW Green Street, Apartment 7, Haven Heights, Vancouver, WA 98888 ("The Submissive")

* * *

><p><em>Oh, Jeez! This is the real deal! <em>I continue reading over it and it seems the more I read, the more terrified I am in doing this. _Wait, WTF is anal beads?! Is that even legal?! OH HELL NO! _

I know that this is not something for me, but oddly I keep reading it.

"_So what do I get out of it?"_

"_Me."_

And I do want Vincent... I want him in a way that he wouldn't want to be. _I'm still young, I still have all of the time I need for a future, right? _Oh this is so confusing. _Flogging? Whipping? Oh my God! _

I really should stop it here. Not even think any further from this point. I should tell him to take a hike and find one of the fifteen. This isn't me... _so why am I still reading?! _

_Holy fuck! _I don't think I can bring myself to consider the food list. _THAT IS A HARD LIMIT FOR ME! _

My head is buzzing by the time I finish going through the contract. _How can I possibly agree to all of this? _And apparently it's for _my _benefit, _to explore my sensuality, my limits...safely...Pfft! Pa-leeze! _I scoff angrily.

_Serve and obey in ALL things. All things?!_I shake my head in disbelief. Actually, don't the marriage vows use those... _obey?_This throws me. Do couples still say that?

Only three months... is that why there have been so many? He doesn't keep them for long? Or have they had enough after three months?

Every weekend?!_ What is this? Child custody?! Pfft! _That's actually too much for me. I'll never see Tess or whatever friends I may make at my new job, provided I get one. Perhaps I should have one weekend a month to myself. Perhaps when I have my period... that sounds... practical. _He's my master? I'm to be dealt with as he pleases!_ _Holy shit! _

I shudder at the thought of being flogged or whipped. Spanking probably wouldn't be so bad; humiliating, though. And tied up? Well, he did tie my hands together. That was... _well, it was hot!_ _Really hot! _So perhaps that part won't be too bad.

He won't loan me to another Dominant... _DAMN RIGHT, HE WON'T! _That would be totally unacceptable! _Why am I even thinking about this? _

_I can't look him in the eyes.?! _The only way I ever have any chance to see what he's thinking. _Actually, who am I kidding?_ I never know what he's thinking, but I like looking into his eyes. He has beautiful eyes... captivating, intelligent, deep and dark, dark with dominant secrets. I recall his burning, smoky gaze and push my thighs together, squirming.

_And I can't touch him! _Well, no surprise there. And those silly rules again. Ha! …. No, no I can't do this. I put my head in my hands. This is no way to have a relationship. I need some sleep. I'm shattered. All the physical shenanigans I've been engaged in over the last twenty-four hours have been, frankly, exhausting. And mentally..._ oh, man_. This is so much to handle. As Patrick would say, a real mind-fuck. Perhaps in the morning this might not read like a bad joke.

I fall back onto my bed with a huge sighing groan. _Oh God! What am I going to do?!_

Maybe I mislead him in the interview? I'm shy, yes... but submissive? _I let Tess bully me... is that the same? And those soft limits, jeez! _My mind boggles, but I'm reassured that they are up for discussion.

I just need a clear mind, and a fresh day to even think fully on this. I sit up and grab the offending documents and place them into my backpack. Tomorrow is a new day... I'll have to make a decision.

* * *

><p>Tess wakes me the next day.<p>

"Cat, I've been calling you. You must have been out cold."

My eyes reluctantly open. She's not just been up, she's been jogging already. I glance at my alarm. It's eight in the morning. _Jesus! I've slept nine whole hours! _

"What is it?" I mumble sleepily.

"There's a man here with a delivery for you. You have to sign for it."

"What?"

"Come on. It's big. It looks interesting." She hops from foot to foot excitedly and bounds back into the living room. I clamber out of bed and grab my robe hanging on the back of my door. A smart young man with a ponytail is standing in our living room clasping a large box.

"Hi." I mumble.

"I'll make you some tea." Tess scuttles off to the kitchen.

"Miss Chandler?"

And I immediately know who the parcel is from, "Yes." I answer cautiously.

"I have a package for you here, but I have to set it up and show you how to use it."

"Really? At this time?"

"Only following orders, ma'am." He smiles in a charming but professional he's-not-talking-any-crap way.

_Did he just call me ma'am? _Have I aged ten years overnight? If I have, it's that contract. My mouth puckers in disgust, "Okay, what is it?" I hiss.

"It's a MacBook Pro."

"Of course it is." I roll my eyes.

"These aren't available in the shops yet, ma'am; the very latest from Apple."

_How come that doesn't surprise me?_ I sigh heavily, "Just set it up on the dining table over there."

I wander into the kitchen to join Tess.

"What is it?" she asks, nosy as ever.

"It's a laptop from Vincent."

"Why's he sending you a laptop? You know you can use mine?" she frowns.

_Not for what he has in mind._

"Oh, it's only on loan. He wanted me to try it out." My excuse sounds feeble. But Tess nods her head. _Oh my... I have hoodwinked Tess Vargas! _A first. She hands me my tea. The MacBook is sleek and sliver, rather beautiful. It has a very large screen. Vincent Keller likes scale... I think of his living area, in fact, his whole apartment.

"It's got the latest OS and a full suite of programs, plus a one-point-five terabyte hard drive so you'll have plenty of room, thirty-two gigs of RAM... what are you planning to use it for?"

_To research about how to be a sex slave... _"Uhm... E-mail."

"E-mail!" he chokes, raising his eyebrows with a slightly sick look on his face.

"And maybe Internet research." I shrug apologetically.

He sighs, "Well, this has full wireless N, and I've set it up with your Me account details. This baby is all ready to go, practically anywhere on the planet." He looks longingly at it.

"Me account?"

"Your new E-mail address."

_I have an E-mail address?_

He points to an icon on the screen and continues to talk at me, but it's like white noise. I haven't got a clue what he's saying, and in all honesty, I'm not interested. _Just tell me how to switch it on and off... I'll figure out the rest! _After-all, I've been using Tess' for four years. Tess whistles, impressed when she sees it, "This is next-generation tech." she raises her eyebrows at me, "Most women get flowers or maybe jewelry." She adds. I scowl at her, but can't keep a straight face. We both burst into laughter, and computer man gapes at us, bemused. He finishes up and asks me to sign the delivery note.

As Tess shows him out, I sit with my cup of tea and open the E-mail program, and waiting for me is an E-mail from none other than Vincent Keller. My heart leaps into my throat. _I have an E-mail from Vincent Keller! _Nervously, I open it...

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Vincent Keller

**Subject: **Your New Computer

**Date: **May 22 2011 23:15

**To: **Catherine Chandler

Dear Miss Chandler,

I trust you slept well. I hope that you put this laptop to good use, as discussed

I look forward to dinner Wednesday.

Happy to answer any questions before then, via e-mail, should you so desire.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p>I hit reply...<p>

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Catherine Chandler

**Subject: **Your New Computer (on loan)

**Date: **May 23 2011 08:20

**To: **Vincent Keller

I slept very well, thank you – for some strange reason – _Sir._

I understood that this computer was on loan, ergo not mine.

Cat.

* * *

><p>Almost instantaneously, there is a response...<p>

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Your New Computer (on loan)

**Date**: May 23 2011 08:22

**To:** Catherine Chandler

The computer is on loan, indefinitely, Miss Chandler. I note from your tone that _you _have read the documentation I gave you.

Do you have any questions so far?

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p>I can't help but grin.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Inquiring Minds

**Date: **May 23 2011 08:25

**To: **Vincent Keller

I have many questions, but not suitable for e-mail, and some of us have to work for a living.

I do not want or need a computer indefinitely.

Until later, good day... _Sir._

Cat

* * *

><p>His reply is instant and makes me smile.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject: **Your New Computer (again on loan)

**Date:** May 23 2011 08:26

**To: **Catherine Chandler

Laters, baby.

P.S. : I work for a living too.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p>I shut the computer down, grinning like an idiot. How can I resist playful Vincent? I am going to be late for work. Well, it is my last week... Mr. and Mrs. Clayton will probably cut me some slack. I race into the shower, unable to shake my face-splitting grin. <em>He e-mailed me. <em>I'm like a small, giddy child. And all the contract angst fades. As I wash my hair, I think of what I could ask him via e-mail. Surely it's better to talk about this in person. Suppose someone hacked into his account? I flush at the thought.

I dress quickly, shout a hasty good-bye to Tess, and I'm off to work my last week at Clayton's.

* * *

><p>Patrick phones me by eleven.<p>

"Hey, are we doing coffee?" he sounds like the old Patrick already, my friend, not a... _what did Vincent call him? _Suitor. _Ugh._

"Sure. I'm at work. Can you make it here for, say, twelve?"

"See you then." he says. I can almost hear his smile through the phone.

He hangs up, and I go back to restocking the paintbrushes and thinking about Vincent Keller and his contract.

* * *

><p>Patrick is punctual. He comes bounding into the shop like a gamboling bright-eyed puppy.<p>

"Cat." He smiles his usual, dazzling, toothy, all-Hispanic-American smile, and I can't be angry with him anymore.

"Hey, Patrick." I hug him, "I'm starving. I'll just let Mrs. Clayton know I'm going on my lunch."

As we stroll to the local coffee shop, I slip my arm through Patrick's. I'm so grateful for his... normality. Someone I know and understand.

"He, Cat?" he murmurs, "You've really forgiven me?"

"Patrick, you know I can never stay mad at you for long."

He grins.

And suddenly Vincent's words replay in my mind in a haunting-like fashion...

"_I don't like to share, Catherine. Remember that."_

We finish the rest of our lunch talking about graduation, although my mind continuously goes back to the contract and then, of course, my time spent with Vincent. _I miss him already. _I sigh.

* * *

><p>I can't wait to get home, the lure of e-mailing Vincent, and maybe I can begin my research project. Tess is out somewhere, so I fire up the new laptop and open my e-mail. Sure enough, there's a message waiting for me from Vincent. I'm practically bouncing off my seat in excitement. <em>Your so freaking crazy Chandler!<em>

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Working for a Living

**Date**: May 23 2011 17:24

**To:** Catherine Chandler

Dear Miss Chandler,

I do hope you had a good day at work.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p>I hit reply...<p>

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Working for Living

**Date:** May 23 2011 17:48

**To:** Vincent Keller

_Sir_... I had a very good day at work. Thank you.

Cat

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject: **Do the Work!

**Date:** May 23 2011 17:50

**To:** Catherine Chandler

Miss Chandler,

Delighted you had a good day.

While you are e-mailing, you are not researching.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Nuisance

**Date:** May 23 2011 17:53

**To:** Vincent Keller

Mr. Keller, stop e-mailing me, and I can start my assignment. I'd like another A.

Cat

* * *

><p>I hug myself.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Impatient

**Date: **May 23 2011 17:55

**To: **Catherine Chandler

Miss Chandler,

Stop e-mailing _me_, and do your assignment.

I'd like to award another A.

The first one was so well deserved. ;)

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p>Vincent Keller just sent me a winking smiley... <em>Oh my. <em>I fire up Google.

**From:** Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Internet Research

**Date:** May 23 2011 17:59

**To: **Vincent Keller

Mr. Keller,

What would you suggest I put into a search engine?

Cat

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Internet Research

**Date:** May 23 2011 18:02

**To:** Catherine Chandler

Miss Chandler,

Always start with Wikipedia.

No more e-mails unless you have questions.

Understood?

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Bossy!

**Date:** May 23 2011 18:04

**To: **Vincent Keller

Yes... _Sir._

You are so bossy!

Cat

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** In Control

**Date:** May 23 2011 18:06

**To:** Catherine Chandler

Catherine, you have no idea.

Well, maybe an inkling now.

Do the work.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p>I type <em>Submissive <em>into Wikipedia.

* * *

><p>Half an hour later, I feel slightly queasy and frankly shocked to my core. <em>Do I really want this stuff in my head? Jeez... is this what he gets up to in the Red Room of Pain? <em>I sit staring at the screen and part of me, a very moist and integral part of me that I've only become acquainted with very recently, is seriously turned on. _Oh fucking my! Some of this stuff is HOT! But is it for me? Holy shit... could I do this? _I need space. I need to think.

And for the first time in my life, I voluntarily go for a run. I find my nasty, never0used sneakers, some sweatpants, and a T-shirt. I put my hair into a messy bun and plug in my iPod. I just can't sit in front of the screen any longer.

I need to expend some of this excess, enervating energy. Quite frankly, I have a mind to run to the Heathman Hotel and just demand sex from the control freak. But that's five miles, and I don't think I'll be able to run one mile, let alone five miles, and of course, he might turn me down, which would be beyond humiliating.

Tess is walking from her car as I head out of the door. She nearly drops her shopping bags when she sees me. _Catherine Chandler, in sneakers. Pfft!_

I wave and don't stop for the inquisition. I need some serious alone time. _Snow Patrol _is blaring into my ears as I set off into the opal and aquamarine dusk.

* * *

><p>I pace through the park. <em>What am I going to do? <em>I want him, but on his terms? I just don't know. Perhaps I should negotiate what I want. Go through that ridiculous contract line by line and say what is acceptable and what isn't. My research has told me that legally it's unenforceable. He must know that. I figure that it just sets up the parameters of the relationship. It illustrates what I expect from him and what he expects from me... my total submission._ Am I prepared to give him that? Am I even capable? _

I am plagued by only one question... _Why is he like this? _Is it because he was seduced at such a young age? I just don't know. He's still such a mystery.

Yes, I need to tell him what's okay and what isn't. I need to e-mail him my thoughts, and then we can discuss these on Wednesday. I stop my running, and bend over, placing my hands onto my knees. I take a deep, cleansing breath, then jog back to the apartment.

Tess has been shopping, as only she can, for clothes for her vacation to Barbados. Mainly bikinis and matching sarongs. She will look fabulous in all of them, yet she still makes me sit and comment each and every one of them. _Jeez, Tess! _I mean seriously, there is only one way to say '_You look fabulous, Tess.'_ She has a curvy, slim figure to die for. She doesn't do it on purpose, I know, but I haul my sorry, perspiration-clad ass into my room on the pretext of packing more boxes. Could I feel any more inadequate? Taking the awesome free technology with me, I set the laptop up on my desk. I e-mail Vincent...

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Shocked of WSUV

**Date:** May 23 2011 20:33

**To: **Vincent Keller

Okay, I've seen enough.

It was nice knowing you.

Cat

* * *

><p>I press send, hugging myself, laughing at my little joke. Will he find it as funny? <em>Oh shit! Probably not. Vincent Keller isn't famed for his sense of humor. <em>But I know it exists, I've experienced it. Perhaps I've gone too far. I wait for his answer... but sadly, it never comes. _Good going Chandler, you really fucked it up! _My subconscious crosses her arms at me with pursed lips, tapping her foot, _What were you thinking?!_

To distract myself from my unruly, smart-mouthed subconscious, and the anxiety I hold still hoping and waiting for a reply, I do what I told Tess I _would_ do... I start packing boxes. I cram my books into a crate. By nine, I've still not heard back from him. _This is it... _

This is probably the last time I will ever hear from Vincent Keller again. I face-palm. _Dammit, you stupid girl! _And in this moment I realize that I truly do want him in my life. Dominant, or not... _Or maybe I'm just over thinking things? _

I pout petulantly as I plug in my earbuds to my iPad, resuming my _Snow Patrol _playlist. I sit down at my small desk to reread the contract and make my comments.

I don't know why I glance up, maybe it was because I saw a shadow from the corner of my eye, I just don't know... But when I do, _he's _standing in the doorway of my bedroom, watching me intently. He's wearing his gray flannel pants and a white linen shirt, gently twirling his car keys. I pull my earbuds out and freeze. _Fuck! _My subconscious screams, running away like a coward and leaving me here alone to face him. _Oh God! Is he mad?_

"Good evening, Catherine." His voice is cool, his expression completely guarded and unreadable. The capacity to speak deserts me. _Damn Tess for letting him in here with no warning!_

I'm aware that I'm still in my gray sweats, un-showered, yucky, and he's just gloriously yummy. His pants doing that hanging from his hips thing, and what's more, he's here in my bedroom.

"I felt that your e-mail warranted a reply in person." he explains dryly and low.

I open my mouth and then close it again, twice. The joke is n me. Never in this or any alternate universe did I expect him to drop everything and turn up here.

* * *

><p><em><strong>**I know, a little shorter than what yal are used to. Again, my 6 year old was not feeling well, so I skipped some scenes from the book. No worries, it wasn't anything 'saucy' lol. Next chapter will be tomorrow night probably since this chapter was short. I hope you enjoyed it. REVIEWS!**<strong>_


	12. Chapter 12

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*WARNING:<strong>** The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, ****graphic sexual content, and DOM/SUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*Extra:<strong>** I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: I am now going to say again that if you don't like graphic sex scenes, vulgar language, etc... to just stop reading. FSOG is nothing BUT graphic and vulgar lol. Very detailed I may add. Honestly, IN MY OPINION, I love romantic/graphic stories, it gives you a better picture, which makes stories great! E.L. James is one of my favorite writers – Author of FSOG – and she is the reason this fanfic even exists! I know VinCat are VERY different in this story, GOD KNOWS THAT, but my God, it is ONLY fanfic! Everybody is used to them being romantic, loving, not cruel, or into kinky-fuckery... But JT, in the show -S2E21- did mention that they role play, which falls into this category lol. Anyways, I am not mad at all, just explaining myself because I feel like I should. Things are going to get pretty far out there in this FF, just saying... and more and MORE graphic/vulgar. Just another WARNING which I post in EVERY chapter lol. Anyways, here's the next chapter.)**

_Italics represent Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 12-<strong>_

"May I sit?" he asks, his eyes now dancing with humor... _Thank heavens! Maybe he'll see the funny side?_

I nod. The power of speech has been stripped from me, once again, and all because of this sexy, intimidating man in front of me. Actually, he's on my bed. _Vincent Fucking Keller is sitting on my bed!_

"I wondered what your bedroom would look like." he says. I glance around it, plotting an escape route. Nope... there's still only the door or window. My room is functional, but cozy... sparse white wicker furniture and a white iron double bed with a patch-work quilt my mother had made for me when she was in her folksy Americana quilt-making stage. It's all pale blue and cream.

"It's very serene and peaceful in here." hr murmurs. _Not at the moment... not with you here, Keller!_

Finally, my medulla oblongata recalls its purpose. I take a deep breath, "How...?"

He smiles at me, "I'm still at the Heathman."

_I knew that._

"Would you like a drink?" Politness wins out over everything else I'd like to say.

"No, thank you, Catherine." He smiles a dazzling, crooked smile, his head cocked to one side slightly.

_Well, I might need one._ My subconscious grits through her teeth. I ignore her.

"So it was _nice _knowing me?"

_Holy cow! Is he offended? _I stare down at my fingers. How am I going to dig myself out of this? If I tell him it was a joke, I don't think he'll be impressed.

"I thought you'd reply by e-mail." My voice catches in my throat as I say the words out loud, sounding small, and some-what pathetic.

"Are you biting your lower lip deliberately?" he asks darkly.

I blink up at him, gasping, and freeing my lip, "I wasn't aware that I was biting my lip." I murmur softly. Suddenly, I feel uncomfortable. My heart is pounding. I can feel my cheeks turn pink. And then there is that... _pull. _That delicious electricity between us charging, filling the space with static. He's sitting so close to me, his eyes are a fire burning brown, his elbows resting on his knees, his legs apart. Leaning forward, he slowly takes the hair tie out of my hair. It cascades over my shoulders and he shakes his hand in it slowly to tease it.

My breathing is shallow as I watch him slowly sit back, hypnotized by his gaze.

"So you decided on some exercise." he breathes, his voice soft and melodious. He reaches and tucks my hair behind my ear, "Why, Catherine?" His fingers circle my ear and, very softly, rhythmically, he tugs my earlobe. It's so intimate.

"I needed time to think." I whisper. I'm all deer/headlights, moth/flame, bird/snake... and he knows exactly what he's doing to me.

"Think about what, Catherine?"

"You." I whisper.

"And you decided that it was_ nice_ knowing me? Do you mean_ knowing _me in the biblical sense?"

_Oh shit. _I flush, "I didn't think you were familiar with the Bible."

"I went to Sunday school, Catherine. It taught me a great deal."

I raise an eyebrow, "I don't remember reading about nipple clamps in the Bible. Perhaps you were taught from a modern translation."

His lips arch with a trace of a smile and my eyes are suddenly drawn to his mouth.

"Well I thought that I should come and remind you how _nice _it was to knowing me."

_Holy crap! _I stare at him open-mouthed, and his fingers move from my ear to my chin, "What do you say to that, Miss Chandler?"

His eyes blaze at me, his challenge intrinsic in his stare. His lips are parted... he's waiting, coiled to strike. _Desire... _acute, liquid, and smoldering... combusts deep in my belly. I take premptive action and launch myself at him. Somehow he moves, I have no idea how. And in the blink of an eye, I'm on the bed, pinned beneath him, my arms stretched out and held above my head, his free hand clutching my face, and his mouth finding mine.

His tongue is in my mouth, claiming and possessing my me, and I revel in the force he uses. I feel him against the length of my body. He wants _me_, and this does strange, delicious things to my insides. Not Tess in her little bikinis, not one of the fifteen, not evil Mrs. Robinson. _Me!_ This beautiful Greek God wants me. My inner goddess glows so bright she could light up Portland.

Suddenly, he stops kissing me, and opening my eyes, I find him gazing down at me.

"Trust me?" he breathes.

I nod, wide-eyed, my heart bouncing off my ribs, my blood thundering through my veins. He reaches down and from his pants pocket, he takes out his silver-gray silk tie... _that _silver-gray woven tie that leaves small impressions of its wrath on my skin. He moves so quickly, sitting astride me as he fastens my wrists together, but this time, he ties the other end of the tie to one of the spokes of my white iron headboard. He pulls at my binding, checking if it's secure.

I'm not going anywhere. I'm tied, _literally_, to my bed. And oh, how badly I'm aroused by this. I want him. _I need him!_

He slides off me and stands beside the bed, staring down at me, his eyes dark with want. His look is triumphant mixed with relief, "That's better." he murmurs, and smiles a wicked, knowing smile. He bends and starts undoing one of my sneakers. _Oh no... no... my feet! No! I've just been running!_

"No." I protest, trying to kick him off.

He stops, looking up at me, "If you struggle, I'll tie your feet too. If you make a noise, Catherine, I will gag you. Keep quiet. Tess is probably outside listening right now."

_Gag me! Tess!_

He removes my shoes and my socks efficiently and slowly peels off my sweatpants. Oh... _What panties am I wearing? _He lifts me and pulls the quilt and my duvet out from underneath me and places me back down, this time on the sheets.

"Now then." he licks his bottom lip slowly, "You're biting that lip, Catherine. You know the effect it has on me." He places his long index finger over my mouth, a warning.

_Oh my. _I can barely contain myself, lying helpless, watching him move gracefully around my room. It's a heady aphrodisic. Slowly, almost leisurely, he removes his shoes and socks, undoes his pants, and lifts his shirt off over his head.

"I think you've seen too much." He chuckles slyly. He sits astride me again, pulls my T-shirt up, and I think he's going to take it off me, but he rolls it up to my neck and then pulls it up over my head so he can see my mouth and nose, but it's covering my eyes. And because it's folded over, I can't see a damn thing!

"Mmm." he breathes appreciatively, "This just gets better and better. I'm going to get a drink."

Leaning down, he kisses me, his lips tender against mine, and his weight shifts off the bed. I hear the quiet creak of the bedroom door. Get a drink? _Where? Here? Portland? Seattle? _I strain to hear him. I can make out low rumblings, and I know he's talking to Tess... _Oh Lord! He's practically naked! _What's she going to say? I hear a faint popping sound. _What's that?_ He returns, I can tell by the sound of his breathing, the door creaking once more, his feet padding across the bedroom floor, and ice tinkling against glass as it swirls in liquid.

_What kind of drink?_

He shuts the door and shuffles around removing his pants? _Yes! _They drop to the floor, and I know that he's naked. He sits astride me again, "Are you thirsty, Catherine?" he asks, his voice teasing.

"Yes." I breathe, because my mouth is suddenly parched. I hear the ice clink the glass, and he leans down and kisses me, pouring a delicious, crisp liquid into my mouth as he does. It's white wine. It's so unexpected, _so hot! _Though it's chilled and Vincent's lips are chilled.

"More?" he seductively whispers against my lips.

I nod. It tastes so much better because it's been in _his _mouth. He leans down, and I drink another mouthful from his lips... _Oh. Fucking. My!_

"Let's not go too far; we know your capacity for alcohol is limited, Catherine."

I can't help it. I grin, and he leans down to deliver another delicious mouthful. He shifts so he's lying beside me, his erection at my hip. _Oh, God! I want him, NOW!_

"Is this _nice_?" he asks, but I hear the edge in his voice.

I tense. He moves the glass again and leans down, kissing me and depositing a small shard of ice in my mouth with a little wine. He slowly and leisurely trails chilled kisses down the center of my body, from the base of my throat to between my breasts, down my torso to my belly. He pops a fragment of ice into my navel in a pool of cool, cold wine. It burns all the way down to the depths of my sex. _Wow!_

"Now you have to keep still." he whispers, "If you move, Catherine, you'll get wine all over the bed."

My hips flex automatically.

"If you spill the wine, I will punish you, Miss Chandler."

I groan and desperately fight the urge to tilt my hips, pulling on my restraint. _Oh no... please!_

With one finger, he pulls down my bra cups in turn, my breasts pushed up, exposed and vulnerable. Leaning down, he kisses and tugs at each of my nipples in turn with cool, cold lips. I fight my body as it tries to arch in response.

"How _nice _is this?" he breathes, blowing on one of my nipples. I hear another clink of ice, and then I can feel it around my right nipple as her tugs at my left one with his lips. I moan, struggling not to move. It's sweet, agonizing torture.

"If you spill the wine, I won't let you get off." he whispers.

"Mmm...please, Vincent...Sir...PLEASE." I groan. He's driving me insane. I can actually _hear _his smile.

The ice in my navel is melting. I am beyond warm... warm and chilled and wanting. Wanting him... inside me. Now.

His cool fingers trail languidly across my belly. My skin is over-sensitive, my hips flex automatically, and the now-warmer liquid from my navel seeps over my belly. Vincent moves quickly, lapping it up with his tongue, kissing, biting me softly, sucking.

"Oh, Catherine, you moved. What am I going to do to you?"

I'm panting loudly. All I can concentrate on is his voice and his touch. Nothing else is real. Nothing else matters, nothing else registers on my radar. His fingers slip into my panties, and I'm rewarded with his sharp intake of air, "Oh...Catherine." he murmurs and he pushes two fingers inside me.

I gasp.

"Ready for me so soon." he says. He moves his fingers tantalizingly slowly... in, out. By instinct, I push against him, tilting my hips up.

"You are a greedy girl." he scolds softly, and his thumb circles my clitoris and then he presses down.

I groan loudly as my body bucks beneath his expert fingers. He reaches up and pushes the T-shirt over my head so I can see him. I blink in the soft light of my sidelight. I long to touch him.

"I want to touch you." I breathe.

"I know." he murmurs. He leans down and kisses me, his fingers still moving rhythmically inside me, his thumb circling and pressing. His other hand scoops my hair off my head and holds my head in place. His tongue mirrors the actions of his fingers, claiming me. My legs begin to stiffen as I push against his hand. He gentles his hand, so I'm brought back from the brink. He does this again and again. It's so frustrating... _Oh please, Vincent! _I scream in my head.

"This is your punishment, so close and yet so far. Is this _nice_?" he breathes in my ear. I whimper, exhausted, pulling against my restraint. I'm helpless, lost in an erotic torment.

"Please." I groan, begging him. He finally takes pity on me.

"How should I fuck you, Catherine?"

_Oh... _my body starts to quiver. He stills again.

"Please."

"What do you want, Catherine?"

"You... I want you, Vincent. Now!"

"Hmm." he groans. He withdraws his hand and reaches over to the bedside table for a foil packet. He kneels up between my legs, and very slowly he pulls my panties off, staring down at me, his eyes gleaming. He rolls on the condom and I watch fascinated, mesmerized.

"How _nice _is this?" he says as he strokes himself.

"I meant it as a joke." I whimper. _Please fuck me, Vincent._

He raises his eyebrows as his hand moves up and down his impressive length, "As a joke?" His voice is menacingly soft.

"Yes... Please, Vincent." I beseech him.

"Are you laughing now?"

"No!" I mewl.

I'm a ball of sexual tense need. He stares down at me for a moment, measuring my need, then he grabs me suddenly and flips me over. It takes me by surprise, and because my hands are tied, I have to support myself on my elbows. He pushes both my knees up the bed so my behind is in the air, and he slaps me, hard. Before I can react, he plunges inside me. I cry out. From the slap, from his sudden assault, and I come instantly again and again, falling apart beneath him as he continues to slam deliciously into me. He doesn't stop. I'm spent. I can't take this... and he pounds on and on and on... then I'm building again..._ surely not_..._No!_

"Come on, Catherine... Again." he growls through clenched teeth, and unbelievably, my body responds, convulsing around him as I climax anew, calling out his name. I shatter again into tiny fragments, and Vincent stills, finally letting go, silently finding his release. He collapses on top of me, breathing hard.

"How _nice _was that?" he asks through his gritted teeth.

* * *

><p><em>Oh my...<em>

I lie panting and spent on the bed, eyes closed as he slowly pulls out of me. He rises immediately and dresses. When he's fully clothed, he climbs back on the bed and gently undoes my binding and pulls my T-shirt off. I flex my fingers and rub my wrists, smiling at the woven pattern imprinted in my flesh from the tie. I readjust my bra as he pulls the duvet and quilt over me. I stare up at him completely dazed, and he smirks down at me.

"That really_ was_ nice." I whisper, smiling coyly.

"There's that word again."

"You don't like that word?"

"No. It doesn't do it for me at all."

"Oh, I don't know... it seems to have a _very_ beneficial effect on you."

"So I'm a beneficial effect, now am I? Could you wound my ego any further, Miss Chandler?"

"I don't think there's anything wrong with your ego, Mr. Keller." But even when I say the words, I don't feel the conviction in them. Something elusive crosses my mind, a fleeting thought, but it's lost before I can grasp it.

"You think?" His voice is soft. He's lying beside me, fully clothed, his head propped up on his elbow, and I'm only wearing my bra.

"Why don't you like to be touched?" I whisper softly.

"I just don't." He reaches over and plants a soft kiss on my forehead, "So, that e-mail was your idea of a joke."

I smile apologetically at him and shrug.

"I see. So you're still considering my proposition?"

"Your indecent proposal... yes, I am. I have issues though."

He grins down at me as if relieved, "I'd be disappointed if you didn't."

"I was going to e-mail them to you, but you kind of interrupted me."

"Coitus interruptus." he smiles.

"See, I knew you had a sense of humor somewhere in there." I smile.

"Only certain things are funny, Catherine. I thought you were saying no, no discussion at all." His voice drops.

"I still don't know yet. I haven't made up my mind. Will you collar me?"

He raises an eyebrow, "You have been doing your research. I don't know, Catherine. I've never collared anyone."

_Oh... should I be surprised by this? _I know so little about _the scene_….. I don't know.

"Were you collared?" I ask, lowly.

"Yes."

"By Mrs. Robinson?"

"Mrs. Robinson?!" He laughs loudly, freely, and he looks so young and carefree. His head thrown back, his laughter infectious. I grin back at him.

"I'll tell her you said that; she'll love it." he says, calming his laughter.

"You still talk to her regularly?" I can't keep the shock out of my voice.

"Yes." He's serious now.

_Oh... _And a part of me is insanely jealous. I'm disturbed by the depth of my feeling.

"I see." My voice is tight, "So you have someone you can discuss your alternate lifestyle with, but I'm not allowed."

He frowns.

"I don't think I've ever thought about it like that. Mrs. Robinson was part of that lifestyle. I told you, she's a good friend now. If you'd like, I can introduce you to one of my former subs. You could talk to her."

_What?! Is he deliberately trying to upset me?_

"Is this _your_ idea of a joke?"

"No, Catherine." He's bemused as he shakes his head.

"No! I'll do this on my own, thank you very much." I snap at him, pulling the duvet up to my chin.

He stares at me, at sea, surprised, "Catherine, I..." He's lost for words. A first, I think. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"I'm not offended. I'm appalled."

"Appalled?"

"I don't want to talk to one of your ex-girlfriends... slave sub... whatever you call them."

"Catherine Chandler. Are you jealous?"

I flush, crimson.

"Are you staying?"

"I have a breakfast meeting tomorrow at the Heathman. Besides, I told you, I don't sleep with girlfriends, slaves, subs, or anyone. Friday and Saturday were exceptions. It won't happen again." I can hear the resolve behind his soft, husky voice.

I purse my lips at him, "Well, I'm tired now."

"Are you kicking me out?" He raises his eyebrows, amused and a little dismayed.

"Yes... yes I am."

"Well, that's another first." He eyes me speculatively, "So nothing you want to discuss now? About the contract."

"No." I reply instantly.

"God, I'd to give you a good hiding. You'd feel a lot better, and so would I."

"You can't say things like that... I haven't signed anything yet."

"A man can dream, Catherine." He leans over me and grasps my chin, "Wednesday?" he murmurs, and he kisses me lightly on my lips.

"Wednesday." I agree, "I'll see you out. If you give me a minute." I sit up and grab my T-shirt, pushing him out of the way. Reluctantly, he gets up off the bed.

"Please pass me my sweatpants."

He collects them from the floor and hands them to me, "Yes, ma'am." He's trying unsuccessfully to hide his smile. I narrow my eyes at him as I slip my pants on. My hair is a mess, and I know I'll have to face the Tess Vargas Inquisition after he's gone. Grabbing a hair tie, I walk to my bedroom door, opening it to check for Tess. She's not in the living room. I think I can hear her on her phone in her room.

* * *

><p>Vincent follows me out. During the short walk from bedroom to front door, my thoughts and feelings ebb and flow, transforming. I'm no longer angry with him, I feel suddenly unbearably shy.<em> I don't want him to go.<em> For the first time, I'm wishing he was _normal_, wanting a normal relationship that doesn't need a ten-page agreement, a flogger, and carabiners in his playroom ceiling.

I open the door for him and stare down at my hands. This is the first time I have ever had sex in my home, and as sex goes, I think it was pretty damn fine. But now I feel like a receptacle, an empty vessel to be filled at his whim. My subconscious shakes her head, with crossed arms, _You wanted to run to the Heathman for sex... Instead you got it express delivered. _She taps her foot with a what-are-you-complaining-about look on her face. Vincent stops in the doorway and clasps my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his.

His brow creases, "You okay?" he asks tenderly as his thumb lightly caresses my bottom lip.

"Yes." I reply, though in all honesty I'm just not sure. I feel a paradigm shift. I know that if I do this thing with him, I will get hurt. He's just not capable, interested, or willing to offer me any more... and I want more. _Much more. _The surge of jealousy I felt only moments ago tells me that I have deeper feelings for him than I have admitted to myself.

"Wednesday." he confirms, and he leans forward and kisses me softly. Something changes while he's kissing me; his lips grow more urgent against mine, his hand moves up from my chin and he's holding the side of my head, his other hand on the other side. His breathing accelerates. He deepens the kiss, leaning into me. I put my hands on his impressively muscular arms. I want to run them through his hair, but I resist, knowing he won't like it. He leans his forehead against mine, his eyes closed, his voice strained.

"Catherine." he whispers. "What are you doing to me?"

"I could say the same to you." I whisper back.

Taking a deep breath, he kisses my forehead and leaves. He strolls purposefully down the path to his car as he runs his hand through his hair. Glancing up at me, he opens his car door, he smiles his breathtaking smile. My answering smile is weak, completely dazzled by him, and I'm reminded once more of Icarus soaring too close to the sun. I close the front door as he climbs into his sports car. I suddenly feel the overwhelming urge to cry; a sad and lonely melancholy grips and tightens around my heart.

Dashing back to my bedroom, I close the door behind me, leaning against it as I slide down it into the floor. I try to rationalize my feelings, but I fail miserably. _I can't do this! _I put my head in my hands as my tears begin to flow.

Tess knocks gently, "Cat?" she whispers. I stand, opening the door. She takes one look at me and throws her arms around me, "What's wrong? What did that creepy good-looking bastard do?"

"Oh, Tess. Nothing I didn't want him to."

She pulls me to my bed and we sit, "You have dreadful sex hair, Cat."

In spite of my ridiculous sadness, I begin laughing, "It was good sex, not dreadful at all."

Tess smiles, "That's better. Why are you crying? You never cry, Catherine." She retrieves my brush from the side table and, sitting behind me, very slowly starts brushing my hair.

"I just don't think our relationship is going to go anywhere." I stare down at my fingers.

"I thought you said you were going to see him on Wednesday?" she asks.

"I am. That was our original plan."

"So, why did he turn up here today?"

"I sent him an e-mail."

"Asking him to drop by?"

I sigh, "No, saying I didn't want to see him anymore."

"And he turns up? Cat, that's genius!"

"Actually, it was a joke."

"Oh. Now I'm really confused."

Patiently, I explain the essence of my e-mail without giving anything away.

"So you thought he'd reply by e-mail?" she asks.

"Yes."

"But instead he turns up here."

"Yes."

"I'd say he's completely smitten with you."

I frown. _Vincent smitten with me? Hardly! _He's just looking for a new toy, a _convenient_ new toy that he can bed and do unspeakable things to. My heart tightens painfully. This is the reality.

"He came here to fuck me, that's all." I whisper.

"Who said romance was dead?" she whispers, horrified. I've shocked Tess. I didn't think that was possible. I shrug apologetically.

"He uses sex as a weapon." I mumble low.

"Fuck you into submission?" She shakes her head disapprovingly. I blink rapidly at her, and I feel the blush as it spreads across my face. _Oh... spot on, Tess Vargas, Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist._

"Cat, I don't understand. You just let him make love to you?"

"No, Tess, we don't make love... we fuck. Vincent's terminology. He doesn't do the love thing."

"I knew there was something weird about him. He has commitment issues."

I nod, as if in agreement. Inwardly, I pine. _Oh, Tess... I wish I could tell you everything. Everything about this strange, sad, kinky guy, and you could tell me to forget about him. Stop me from being a fool!_

"I guess it's all a little overwhelming." I murmur. _That's the understatement of the year._

Because I want to get Vincent off my mind, I ask her about JT. Tess' whole demeanor changes at the mention of his name, "He's coming over early Saturday to help load up." She hugs the hairbrush. _Boy, has she got it bad. _And I feel a familiar faint stab of envy. Tess has found herself a normal man, and she looks so happy.

I turn and hug her.

"Oh..." she starts, "I meant to tell you that your dad called while you were... er, occupied. Apparently Bob has sustained some injury, so your mom and he can't make graduation. But your dad will be here Thursday. He wants you to call."

"Oh... my mom never called me. Is Bob okay?"

"Yes. Call her in the morning. It's late now."

"Thanks, Tess. I'm okay now. I'll call Thomas in the morning, too. I think I'll just turn in."

She smiles, but her eyes crinkle at the corners with concern.

* * *

><p>After she's gone, I sit and read the contract again, making more notes as I go. When I've finished, I fire up the laptop, ready to respond.<p>

There's an e-mail from Vincent in my inbox.

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Vincent Keller

**Subject: **This Evening

**Date: **May 23 2011 23:16

**To: **Catherine Chandler

Miss Chandler,

I look forward to receiving your notes on the contract.

Until then, sleep well, baby.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Issues

**Date:** May 24 2011 00:02

**To:** Vincent Keller

Dear Mr. Keller,

Here is my list of issues. I look forward to discussing them more fully at dinner on Wednesday.

**The numbers refer to clauses:**

2: Not sure why this is solely for MY benefit – I.e, to explore MY sensuality and limits. I'm sure I wouldn't need a ten-page contract to do that! Surely this is for YOUR benefit.

4: As you are aware, you are my only sexual partner. I don't take drugs, and I've not had any blood transfusions. I'm probably safe. What about you?

8: I can terminate at any time if I don't think you're sticking to the agreed limits. Okay – I like this!

9: Obey you in all things? Accept without hesitation your discipline? We need to talk about this.

11: One-month trial period. Not three.

12: I can't commit every weekend. I do have a life, or will have. Perhaps three out of four?

15:2: Using my body as you see fit sexually or otherwise – please define "or otherwise".

15:5: This whole discipline clause. I'm not sure I want to be whipped, flogged, or corporally punished. I am sure this would be in breach of clauses 2-5. And also "for any other reason." That's just mean – and you told me you weren't a sadist.

15:10: Like loaning me out to someone else would ever be an option. But I'm glad it's here in black and white.

15:14: The Rules. More on those later.

15:19: Touching myself without your permission. What's the problem with this? You know I don't do it anyway.

15:21: Discipline – please see clause 15:5 above.

15:22: I can't look into your eyes? Why?

15:24: Why can't I touch you?

**Rules:**

Sleep – I'll agree to six hours.

Food – I am not eating food from a prescribed list. The food list goes or I do. Deal breaker!

Clothes – as long as I only have to wear your clothes when I'm with you... okay.

Exercise – We agreed on three hours, this still says four.

**Soft Limits:**

Can we go through all of these? No fisting of ANY kind. What is suspension? Genital clamps... You have got to be kidding me!

Can you please let me know the arrangements for Wednesday? I am working until five p.m. that day.

Good night.

Catherine

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Issues

**Date:** May 24 2011 00:07

**To:** Catherine Chandler

Miss Chandler,

That's a long list. Why are you still up?

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Burning the Midnight Oil

**Date: **May 24 2011 00:10

**To: **Vincent Keller

Sir,

If you recall, I was going through this list when I was distracted and bedded by a passing control freak.

Good night.

Cat

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject: **Stop Burning the Midnight Oil

**Date: **May 24 2011 00:12

**To: **Catherine Chandler

GO TO BED, CATHERINE.

Vincent Keller

CEO & Control Freak, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><em>Oh... shouty capitals! <em>I switch off the laptop. _How can he intimidate me when he's six miles away?_ I shake my head. My heart still heavy, I climb into bed and fall instantly into a deep, yet troubled sleep.

* * *

><p><em><strong>**I truly love the e-mail bits from the book lmao. They really crack me up haha! If you pay attention, the subject in the e-mails change, as well as the signatures. Its a CAN'T MISS moment with the e-mails lmao. Sorry, uhm... anyways, I hope you enjoyed that chapter. And I am so happy to announce that my daughter is perfectly fine this morning! Fully recovered other than a little soreness lol. But that girl is tough like her momma! A Nida for sure! My Dominant side is back now, START REVIEWING! O.O**<strong>_


	13. Chapter 13

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*WARNING:<strong>** The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, ****graphic sexual content, and DOM/SUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*Extra:<strong>** I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires. **

_Italics represent Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 13-<strong>_

The following day, I call my mom after I get home from work. It's been a relatively peaceful day at Clayton's allowing me far too much time to think. I'm restless, nervous about my showdown with Mr. Control Freak tomorrow, and at the back of my mind, I'm worried that maybe I've been too megative in my response to the contract. Maybe he'll call the whole thing off.

My mom is oozing contrition, desperately sorry not to make my graduation. Bob has twisted some ligament, which means he's hobbling all over the place. Honestly, he's as accident-prone as I am. He's expected to make a full recovery, but it means he's resting up, and my mother has to wait on him, hand and sore foot.

"Cat, honey. I'm so sorry." my mom whines into the phone.

"Mom, it's fine. Thomas will be there."

"Cat, you sound distracted. Are you okay, baby?"

"Yes, Mom." _Oh, if only you knew. There's an obscenely rich guy I've met and he wants some kind of strange, kinky sexual relationship, in which I don't get any say in things._

"Have you met someone?" she asks too eagerly.

"No, Mom. I haven't" I lie. I am totally not going there right now with her.

"Well darling, I'll be thinking of you on Thursday. I love you... you know that, honey?"

I close my eyes. Her precious words give me a warm glow inside, "Love you too, Mom. Say hi to Bob, and I hope he feels better soon."

"Will do, honey. Bye."

"Bye." I whisper.

I've strayed into my bedroom with the phone. Idly, I switch the mean machine on and fire up my e-mail program. There's an e-mail from Vincent from late last night or maybe it's from early this morning? Guess it depends on your point of view. My heart rate spikes as I hesitate opening the e-mail. _Holy crap! _Perhaps he said no? Maybe he's canceling dinner? The thought is so painful. I dismiss it quickly, taking a huge breath, and click on the e-mail.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Your Issues

**Date:** May 24 2011 01:27

**To: **Catherine Chandler

Dear Miss Chandler,

Following my more thorough examination of your issues, may I bring to your attention the definition of submissive.

Submissive [s_uh_b-mis-iv] – _adjective_

1. inclined or ready to submit; unresistingly or humbly obedient: _submissive servants_

2. marked by or indicating submission: _a submissive reply._

Origin: 1580-90; submiss + ive

_Syntonms: _1. tractable, compliant, pliant, amanable. 2. passive, resigned, patient, doctile, tame, subdued. _Antonyms: _1. rebellious, disobedient.

Please bear this in mind for our meeting on Wednesday.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p>My initial feeling is one of relief. He's willing to discuss my issues at least, and he still wants to meet tomorrow. After some thought, I reply.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** My Issues... What about Your Issues?

**Date: **May 24 2011 18:29

**To:** Vincent Keller

Sir,

Please note the date of origin: 1580-90. I would respectfully remind you, Sir, that the year is 2011. We have come a long way since then.

May I offer a definition for _you _to consider for our meeting:

compromise [kom-pr_uh_-mahyz] – _noun_

1. a settlement of differences by mutual concessions; an agreement reached by adjustment of conflicting or opposing claims, principles, etc., by reciprocal modification of demands. 2. the result of such a settlement. 3. something intermediate between different things: _The split-level is a compromise between a ranch house and a multi-storied house. _4. an endangering, esp. of reputation; exposure to danger, suspicion, etc.: _a compromise of one's integrity._

Catherine

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** What about My Issues?

**Date:** May 24 2011 18:32

**To: **Catherine Chandler

Good point, well made, as ever, Miss Chandler. I will collect you from your apartment at 7:00 tomorrow.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** 2011 – Women Can Drive

**Date:** May 24 2011 18:40

**To: **Vincent Keller

Sir,

I have a car. I can drive.

I would prefer to meet you somewhere.

Where shall I meet you?

At your hotel at 7:00?

Cat

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Stubborn Young Women

**Date:** May 24 2011 18:43

**To: **Catherine Chandler

Dear Miss Chandler,

I refer to my e-mail dated May 24, 2011, sent at 1:27 and the definition contained therein.

Do you ever think you'll be able to do what you're told?

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Intractable Men

**Date:** May 24 2011 18:49

**To: **Vincent Keller

Mr. Keller,

I would like to drive.

Please.

Cat

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject: **Exasperated Men

**Date:** May 24 2011 18:52

**To:** Catherine Chandler

Fine.

My hotel at 7:00.

I'll meet you in the Marble Bar.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Not So Intractable Men

**Date:** May 24 2011 18:55

**To: **Vincent Keller

Thank You.

Cat x

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Vincent Keller

**Subject: **Exasperating Women

**Date:** May 24 2011 18:59

**To: **Catherine Chandler

You're Welcome.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p>I call Thomas, who is just about to watch the Sounders play some soccer team from Salt Lake City, so our conversation is mercifully brief. He's driving down Thursday for graduation. He wants to take me out afterward for a meal. My heart swells talking to Thomas, and a huge lump forms in my throat. He has been my constant through all Mom's romantic ups and downs. We have a special bond that I treasure. Even though he's my stepdad, he's always treated me as his own, and I can't wait to see him. It's been too long. His quiet fortitude is what I need now, what I miss. Maybe I can channel my inner Thomas for my meeting tomorrow.<p>

Tess and I concentrate on packing, sharing a bottle of cheap red wine as we do. When I finally go to bed, having almost finished packing my room, I feel calmer. The physical activity of boxing everything up has been a welcome distraction, and I'm tired. _Beyond tired. _I just want a good nights rest. I snuggle into my bed and am soon asleep.

* * *

><p>Joe is back from Princeton before he sets off for New York to start an internship with a financing company. He practically follows me around the store, begging me to go out with him, and I must say, it's extremely annoying.<p>

"Joe, for the hundredth time, I have a date this eveing."

"No, you don't. You're just saying that to avoid me. You're always avoiding me."

_Yes... you'd think you'd get the hint._

"Joe, I never thought it was a good idea to date family members to my boss."

"You're finishing here Friday. You're not working tomorrow."

"And I'll be in Seattle as of Saturday and you'll be in New York soon. We couldn't get much farther apart if we tried. Besides, I _do _have a date this evening."

"With Patrick?" he asks with a sigh.

"No."

"Who then?"

_None of your fucking business!_

"Joe... oh." My sigh is exasperated. He's not going to let this go if I don't just come out and tell him, "Vincent Keller." I whisper. His jaw drops and he goes mute for several moments.

"You have a date with Vincent Keller?" he says finally, once over the shock. Disbelief is evident in his voice.

"Yes."

"I see." Joe looks positively crestfallen, stunned even, and a very small part of me resents that he should find this a surprise. My inner goddess does too. She makes a very vulgar and unattractive gesture at him with her fingers.

After that, he ignores me, and at five I am out the door, pronto.

* * *

><p>Tess lent me two dresses and two different pairs of shoes for tonight and for graduation tomorrow. I wish I could feel more enthused about clothes and make an extra effort, but clothes are just not my thing. <em>What is your thing, Catherine? <em>Vincent's softly spoken question haunts me, Shaking my head and endeavoring to quell my nerves, I decide on the plum-colored sheath dress for this evening. It's demure and vaguely business-like. After all, I am negotiating a contract.

I shower, shave my legs and underarms, wash my hair, and then spend a good half hour drying it so that it falls in soft waves to my breasts and down my back. I slip a formal comb clip in to keep one side off my face and apply mascara and some lip gloss. I rarely wear make-up. It intimidates me. None of my literary heroines had to deal with make-up. Maybe I'd know more about it if they had. I slip on the plum-colored stilettos that match the dress, and I'm ready by six-thirty.

"Well?" I ask Tess.

She grins, "Boy, you scrub up well, Cat." She nods with approval, "You look hot!"

"Hot?!" I scoff, "I'm aiming for demure and business-like."

"That too, but most of all, HOT! The dress really suits you and your coloring. The way it clings. DAMN, HOT MOMMA!" she adds with a whistle.

"Tess!" I scold.

"Just keeping it real, Cat. The whole package, looks good. Keep the dress. You'll have him eating out of your hand."

My mouth presses into a hard line. _Oh, you so have that the wrong way around._

"Wish me luck." I smile, clapping my hands together nervously.

"You need luck for a date?" Her brow furrows, puzzled.

"Yes, Tess."

"Well then... good luck." She hugs me, and I'm out the front door.

* * *

><p>I have to drive in my bare feet. Wanda, my sea-blue Beetle, wasn't built to be driven by stiletto-wearers. I pull up outside the Heathman at six-fifty-eight precisely and hand my car keys to the valet for parking. He looks askance at my Beetle, but I ignore him. Taking a deep breath and mentally girding my loins, I head into the hotel.<p>

Vincent is leaning casually against the bar, drinking a glass of white wine. He's dressed in his customary white linen shirt, black jeans, black tie, and a black jacket. His hair is as tousled as ever. I sigh. I stand for a few seconds in the entrance of the bar, gazing at him, admiring the view. He glances, nervously I think, toward the entrance and stills when he sees me. Blinking a coupled of times, he then smiles a slow, lazy, yet sexy smile that renders me speechless and all molten inside. Making a supreme effort not to bite my lip, I move forward, aware that I, Catherine Chandler of Clumseyville, am in high stilettos. He walks gracefully over to meet me.

"You. Look...Stunning." he murmurs as he leans down to briefly kiss my cheek, "A dress, Miss Chandler. I approve." Taking my arm, he leads me to a secluded booth and signals for the waiter.

"What would you like to drink?" he asks.

My lips quirk up in a quick, sly smile as I sit and slide into the booth. _Well, at least he's asking me._

"I'll have what you're having, please." _See! I can play nice and behave myself! _Amused, he orders another glass of Sancerre and slides in opposite of me.

"They have an excellent wine cellar here." he says. Putting his elbows on the table, he steeples his fingers in front of his mouth, his eyes alive with some unreadable emotion. And there it is... that familiar pull and charge from him, it connects somewhere deep inside me. I shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny, my heart palpitating._ I must keep my cool. _

"Are you nervous?" he asks softly.

"Yes."

He leans forward, "Me too." he whispers. My eyes shoot up to meet his. _Him? Nervous? Never! _I blink, and he smiles his adorable lopsided smile at me. The waiter arrives with my wine, a small dish of mixed nuts, and another of olives.

"So, how are we going to do this?" I ask, "Run through my points one by one?"

"Impatient as ever, Miss Chandler."

"Well, I could ask you what you thought of the weather today."

He smiles, and his long fingers reach down to grab an olive, popping it into his mouth. My eyes linger on his mouth. _That mouth, that's been on me... all parts of me._ I flush.

"I thought the weather was particularly unexceptional today." He smirks.

"Are you smirking at me, Mr. Keller?"

"I am, Miss Chandler."

"You know this contract is legally unenforceable?" I blurt out without thinking. _Oops..._

"I am fully aware of that, Catherine."

"Were you going to tell me that at any point?"

He frowns, "You'd think I'd coerce you into something you don't want to do, and then pretend that I have a legal hold over you?"

"Well... yes." I sigh.

"You don't think very highly of me, do you?"

"You haven't answered my question."

"Catherine, it doesn't matter if it's legal or not. It represents an arrangement that I would like to make with you. What I would like from you and what you can expect from me. If you don't like it, there are enough get-out clauses so you can walk away. Even if it were legally binding, do you really think I'd drag you through the courts if you _did_ decide to run?"

I take a long sip of my wine. My subconscious taps me hard on the shoulder. _You must keep your wits about you. Don't drink too much._

"Relationships like this are built on honesty and trust." he continues, "If you don't trust me, then trust me to know how I'm affecting you, how far I can go with you, how far I can take you. If you can't be honest with me, then we really can't do this."

_Oh my, we've cut to the chase quickly. How far he can take me. Holy shit! What does that mean?_

"So, it's quite simple, Catherine. Do you trust me or not?" His eyes are burning, fervent.

"Did you have similar conversations with, uhm... the fifteen?" I ask curious.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because they were all established submissives. They knew what they wanted out of a relationship with me and generally what I expected. With them, it was just a question of fine-tuning the soft limits, details like that."

"Is there a store you go to? Submissives 'R Us?"

He laughs, "Not exactly."

"Then how?"

"Is that what you want to discuss? Or shall we get down to the nitty-gritty? Your issues, as you say." he smiles.

I swallow. _Do I trust him? _Is that what this all comes down to... _trust_? Surely that should be a two-way thing. I remember his snit when I phoned Patrick.

"Are you hungry?" he asks, distracting me from my thoughts.

_Oh no... food._

"No." I whisper.

"Have you eaten today?"

I stare at him. _Honestly... Holy crap, he's not going to like my answer._

"No." My voice is small.

He narrows his eyes, "You have to eat, Catherine. We can eat down here or in my suite. What would you prefer?"

"I think we should stay in public, on neutral ground, Mr. Keller."

He smiles sardonically, "Do you think that would stop me?" he says softly, a sensual warning.

My eyes widen, and I swallow hard, "I hope so."

"Come on, I have a private dining room booked. No public." He smiles at me enigmatically and climbs out of the booth, holding out his hand to me, "Bring your wine." he murmurs.

* * *

><p>Placing my hand in his, I slide out of the booth and stand up beside him. He releases me, and his hand reaches for my elbow. He leads me back through the bar and up the grand stairs to a mezzanine floor. A young man in full Heathman livery approaches us, "Mr. Keller, this way, sir."<p>

We follow him through a plush seating area to an intimate dining room. _Just one secluded table. _The room is small but sumptuous. Beneath a shimmering chandelier, the table is all starched linen, crystal glasses, silver cutlery, and a white rose bouquet in the center of the table. An old-world, sophistacated charm pervades the wood-paneled room. The waiter pulls my chair, and I sit. He places my napkin in my lap. Vincent sits opposite of me. I peek up at him.

"Don't bite your lip." he whispers.

I frown. _Damn it! _I don't even know that I'm doing it.

"I've ordered already. I hope you don't mind." he adds.

Frankly, I'm relieved. I'm not sure if I can make any further decisions.

"No, that's fine." I acquiesce.

"It's good to know that you can be amenable. Now, where was we?"

"The nitty-gritty." I take another large sip of my wine. It really is delicious. Vincent Keller does wine very well. I remember the last sip of wine he gave me in my bed. I blush at the thought.

"Yes, your issues." He fishes into his inside jacket pocket ad pulls out a piece of paper. _My e-mail._

"Clause 2. Agreed. This is for the benefit of us both. I shall redraft."

I blink at him. _Holy shit... we are going through each of these points one at a time. _I just don't feel so brave face-to-face. He looks so earnest. I steel myself with another sip of my wine.

Vincent continues, "My sexual health. Well, all of my previous partners have had blood tests, and I have regular tests every six months for all the health risks you mention. All my recent tests are clear. I have never taken drugs. In fact, I'm vehemently antidrug. I have a strict no-tolerance policy with regards to drugs for all my employees, and I insist on random drug testing."

_Wow... control freakery gone mad! _I blink at him, shocked.

"I have never had any blood transfusions. Does that answer your question?"

I nod, impassive.

"Your next point I mentioned earlier. You can walk away any time, Catherine. I won't stop you. If you go, however... that's it. Just so you know."

"Okay." I answer softly. _If I go, that's it._ The thought is surprisingly painful.

The waiter arrives with our first course. How can I possibly eat? _Holy Moses! He ordered oysters on a bed of ice._

"I hope you like oysters." Vincent's voice is soft.

"I've never had one." _Ever..._

"Really? Well..." he reaches for one, "all you do is tip and swallow. I think you can manage that." He gazes at me, and I know what he's referring to. I blush scarlet. He grins at me, squirts some lemon juice onto his oyster, and then tips it into his mouth.

"Hmm, delicious. Tastes of the sea." He grins at me, "Go on." he encourages.

"So, I don't chew it?"

"No, Catherine, you don't." His eyes are alight with humor. He looks so young like this.

I bite my lip and his expression changes instantly. He looks sternly at me. I reach across and pick up my first-ever oyster._ Okay... here goes nothing._ I squirt some lemon juice on it and tip it up. It slips down my throat, all sea water, salt, the sharp tang of citrus, and fleshiness... _ooh. _I lick my lips, and he's watching me intently, his eyes hooded.

"Well?"

"I'll have another." I say dryly.

"Good girl." he says proudly.

"Did you choose these deliberately? Aren't they known for their aphrodisiac qualities?"

"No, they are the first item on the menu. I don't need an aphrodisiac near you. I think you know that, and I think you react the same way near me." he says simply, "So, where were we?" He glances down at my e-mail as I reach for another oyster.

_He reacts the same way. I affect Vincent Keller... WOW!_

"Obey me in all things. Yes, I want you to do that. I _need_ you to do that. Think of it as role play, Catherine."

"But I'm worried that you'll hurt me."

"Hurt you how?"

"Physically." _And emotionally..._

"Do you really think I would do that? Go beyond any limit you can't take?"

"You've said you've hurt someone before." I mutter.

"Yes, I have. It was a long time ago."

"How did you hurt her?"

"I suspended her from my playroom ceiling. In fact, that's one of your questions. Suspension. That's what the carabiners are for in the playroom. Rope play. One of the ropes was tied too tightly."

I hold my hand up, begging him to stop, "I don't need to know any more. So you won't suspend me then?"

"Not if you really don't want to. You can make that a hard limit."

"Okay."

"So obeying, do you think you can manage that?" he asks, staring at me. His gaze is intense. The seconds tick by.

"I could try." I whisper.

"Good." He smiles, "Now term. One month instead of three is no time at all, especially if you want a weekend away from me each month. I don't think I'll be able to stay away from you for that length of time. I can barely manage it now." He pauses.

_He can't stay away from me? What?!_

"How about one day over one weekend per month you get to yourself, but I get a midweek night that week?" he continues.

"Fine." I murmur.

"And please, let's try it for three months. If it's not for you, then you can walk away anytime. It's simple."

_Is it simple? Is it simple to just walk away from you, Keller? I think not._

I sigh, "Three months?" I'm feeling railroaded. I take another large sip of wine and treat myself to another oyster. I could learn to like these.

"The ownership thing, that's just terminology and goes back to the principle of obeying. It's to get you into the right frame of mind, to understand where I'm coming from. And I want you to know that as soon as you cross my threshold as my submissive, I will do what I like to you. You have to accept that and willingly. That's why you have to trust me. I will fuck you, any time, any way I want, anywhere I want. I will discipline you, because you will screw up. I will train you to please me. But I know you've not done this before. Initially, we'll take it slowly, and I will help you. We'll build up to various scenarios. I want you to trust me, but I know I have to earn your trust, and I will. The 'or otherwise'... again it's to help you get into the mindset; it means anything goes."

He's so passionate, mesmerizing._ This is obviously his obsession, the way he is_... I can't take my eyes off him. He really, _really_ wants this. He stops talking and gazes at me.

"Still with me?" he whispers, his voice rich, warm, and seductive. He takes a sip of his wine, his seductive stare holding mine. The waiter comes to the door, and Vincent subtly nods, permitting the waiter to clear our table.

"Would you like some more wine?" Vincent asks.

"I have to drive."

"Some water then?"

I nod.

"Still or sparkling?" he asks.

"Sparkling, please."

The waiter leaves. I sigh, looking down at my hands. Its really been a lot to take in.

"You're very quiet." Vincent whispers.

I look up, gazing into his eyes, "You're very verbose."

He smiles.

"Discipline. There's a very fine line between pleasure and pain, Catherine. They are two sides of the same coin, one not existing without the other. I can show you how pleasurable pain can be. You don't believe me now, but this is what I mean about trust. There will be pain, but nothing that you can't handle. Again, it comes down to trust. _Do _you trust me, Cat?"

_Cat! He actually called me Cat!_

"Yes, I do." I respond, not thinking... because it's true. I _do_ trust him.

"Well, then." he looks relieved, "The rest of this stuff is just details."

"Important details." I murmur.

"Okay, let's talk through those."

My head is swimming with all his words. I should have brought Tess' digital recorder so I can listen to this again later. There is so much information, so much to process. The waiter re-emerges with our entrees: black cod, asparagus, and crushed potatoes with a hollandaise sauce. I have never felt less like food.

"I hope you like fish." Vincent says mildly.

I make a stab at my food and take a long drink of my sparkling water. I vehemently wish it was wine.

"The Rules. Let's talk about them. The food is a deal breaker?"

"Yes."

"Can I modify to say that you will eat at least three meals a day?"

"No." _I am so not backing down on this one._ No one is going to dictate to me what I can eat. How to fuck? Yes, but eat? No! No way!

He purses his lips, "I need to know that you're not hungry."

I frown._ Why?_ "You'll have to trust me." I whisper.

He gazes at me for a moment, and he relaxes, "Touche, Miss Chandler." he says quietly, " I concede the food and the sleep."

"Why can't I look at you?"

"That's a Dom/Sub thing. You'll get used to it."

_Will I? _

"Why can't I touch you?"

"Because you can't." His mouth sets in a mulish line.

"Is it because of Mrs. Robinson?" _There. I asked. _

He looks quizzically at me, "Why would you think that?" he asks and he immediately understands my question, "You think she traumatized me?"

I nod.

"No, Catherine. She's not the reason. Besides, Mrs. Robinson wouldn't take any of that shit from me."

_Oh... but I have to. _I pout.

"So nothing to do with her?"

"No. And I don't want you touching yourself, either."

_What? _Ah yes, the 'no masturbation' clause.

"Out of curiosity... Why?" I ask.

"Because I want all of your pleasure." He says. His voice is husky but determined.

_Oh... _I have no answer for that. On one level it's up there with 'I want to bite that lip'; on another, it's so selfish. I frown and take a bite of cod, trying to assess mentally what concessions I've gained. The food, the sleep. He's going to take it slow, and we haven't discussed soft limits. But I'm not sure I can face that over food.

"I've given you a great deal to think about, haven't I?" he asks.

"Yes."

"Do you want to go through the soft limits now, too?"

"Not over dinner." I glare at him.

He smiles, "Squeamish?"

"Something like that."

"You've not eaten very much."

"I've actually had enough." I hiss.

"Three oysters, four bites of cod, and one asparagus stalk, no potatoes, no nuts, no olives, and you've not eaten all day. You said I could trust you."

_Jeez! He's kept an inventory!_

"Vincent, please. It's not every day I sit through conversations like this."

"I need you fit and healthy, Catherine."

"I know."

"And right now, I want to peel you out of that dress."

I swallow. _Peel me out of Tess' dress. _I feel the pull deep in my belly. Muscles that I'm now more acquainted with clench at his words. But I can't have this. His most potent weapon, used against me again. He's so good at sex, even I've figured this out.

"I don't think that's a good idea." I murmur quietly, "We haven't had dessert."

"You want dessert?" he snorts.

"Yes."

"You could be dessert." he murmurs suggestively.

I narrow my eyes at him. _Hmm. _"I'm not sure I'm sweet enough."

"Catherine, you're deliciously sweet. I know."

"Vincent. You use sex as a weapon. It really isn't fair." I whisper., staring down at my hands, and then looking directly at him. He raise an eyebrow, surprised, and I see he's considering my words. He strokes his chin thoughtfully.

"You're right. I do. In life you use what you know, Catherine. Doesn't change how much I want you. Here. Now."

How can he seduce me solely with his voice? I'm panting already. My heated blood rushing through my veins, my nerves tingling.

"I'd like to try something." he breathes.

I frown. He's just given me a shitload of ideas to process and now this.

"If you were my sub, you wouldn't have to think about this. It would be easy." his voice is soft, seductive even, "All those decisions, all the wearying thought processes behind them. The 'is this the right thing to do? Should this happen here? Can it happen now?' You wouldn't have to worry about any of that detail. That's what I'd do as your Dom. And right now, I know you want me, Catherine."

My frown deepens. _How can he tell? _

"I can tell because..."

_Holy shit! He's answering my unspoken question. _Is he psychic as well?

"... your body gives you away. You're pressing your thighs together, you're flushed, and your breathing has changed."

_Okay, this is too much._

"How do you know about my thighs?" I ask. My voice is low, disbelieving. _They're under the table for heaven's sake! _

"I felt the tablecloth move, and it's a calculated guess based on years of experience. I'm right, aren't I?"

I flush and stare down at my hands. That's what I'm hindered by in this game of seduction. He's the only one who knows and understands the rules. I'm just too naïve and inexperienced. My only sphere of reference is Tess, and she doesn't take any shit from men. My other references are all fictional: Elizabeth Bennet would be outraged, Jane Eyre too frightened, and Tess would succumb, just as I have.

"I haven't finished my cod." I whisper.

"You'd prefer cold cod over me?"

My head jerks up to glare at him, and his eyes burn molten brown with compelling need.

"I thought you liked me to clear my plate." I mutter.

"Right now, Miss Chandler, I couldn't give a fuck about your food."

"Vincent. You just don't fight fair."

"I know. I never have."

My inner goddess frowns at me. _You can do this! _She coaxes. _Play this Greek God at his own game! _She hisses. _Can I? _Okay. What to do? My inexperience is an albatross around my neck. Picking up a spear of asparagus, I gaze at him and bite my lip. Then very slowly put the tip of my cold asparagus in my mouth and suck it.

Vincent's eyes widen infinitesimally, but I notice.

"Catherine. What are you doing?"

I bite off the tip.

"Eating my asparagus."

Vincent shifts in his seat.

"I think you're toying with me, Miss Chandler."

I feing innocence, "I'm just finishing my food, Mr. Keller."

* * *

><p>The waiter chooses this moment to knock and, unbidden, enter. He glances briefly at Vincent, who frowns at him but then nods, so the waiter clears our plates. The waiters arrival has broken the spell. And I grasp this precious moment of clarity. I have to go. Our meeting will only end one way if I stay, and I need some boundaries after such an intense conversation. As much as my body craves his touch, my mind is rebelling. I need some distance to think about all he's said. I still haven't made a decision, and his sexual allure and prowess doesn't make it any easier.<p>

"Would you like some dessert?" Vincent asks, ever the gentleman, but his eyes still blaze.

"No, thank you. I think I hsould go." I stare down at my hands.

"Go?" He can't his his surprise.

The waiter leaves hastily.

"Yes." It's the right decision. If I stay here, in this room with him, he will fuck me. I stand, purposefully, "We both have the graduation ceremony tomorrow."

Vincent stands automatically, revealing years of ingrained civility.

"I don't want you to go." he whispers.

"Please... I have to."

"Why?" he ask low and soft.

"Because you've given me so much to consider... and I need some distance."

"I could make you stay." he threatens aoftly.

"Yes, you could easily, but I don't want you to."

He runs his hand through his hair, regarding me carefully, "You know, when you fell into my office to interview me, you were all 'yes sir' 'no sir'. I thought you were a natural-born submissive. But quite frankly, Catherine, I'm not sure you have a submissive bone in your delectable body." He moves slowly toward me as he speaks, his voice tense.

"You may be right." I breathe.

"I want the chance to explore the possibility that you do." he murmurs, staring down at me. He reaches up and caresses my face, his thumb tracing my lower lip, "I don't know any other way, Catherine. This is who I am."

"I know."

He leans down to kiss me but pauses before his lips touch mine, his eyes searching mine, wanting, asking permission. I raise my lips to his, and he kisses me, and because I don't know if I'll ever kiss him again, I let go. My hands moving of their own accord and twisting into his hair, pulling him to me, my mouth opening, my tongue stroking his. His hand grasps the nape of my neck as he deepens the kiss, responding to my ardor. His other hand slides down my back and flattens at the base of my spine as he pushes me against his body.

"I can't persuade you to stay?" he breathes between kisses.

"No."

"Spend he night with me."he says as he kisses me again.

"And not touch you? No."

He groans.

"You impossible girl." he pulls back, gazing down at me, "Why do I think you're telling me good-bye?"

"Because I'm leaving now." I whisper.

"That's not what I mean, and you know it."

"Vincent, I have to think about this. I don't know if I can have the kind of relationship you want."

He closes his eyes and presses his forehead against mine, giving us both the opportunity to slow our breathing. After a moment, he kisses my forehead, inhales deeply, his nose in my hair, and thenhe releases me, stepping back.

"As you wish, Miss Chandler." he says, his face impassive. "I'll escort you to the lobby." He holds out his hand. Leaning down, I grab my purse and place my hand in his. _Holy crap, this could be it! _I follow him meekly down the grand stairs and into the lobby, my scalp prickling, my blood pumping. This could be the last good-bye if I decide to say no. My heart contracts painfully in my chest. What a turnaround. What a difference a moment of clarity can make to a girl.

"Do you have your valet ticket?" he asks.

I fish for it in my purse and pull it out, handing it to him. He goes to the doorman. I peek up at him as we stand waiting.

"Thank you for dinner." I murmur.

"It's a pleasure as always, Miss Chandler." he says politely, though he looks deep in thought, completely distracted.

As I peer up at him, I commit his beautiful profile to memory. The idea that I might not see him again, pains me. Haunts me, unwelcomely. His expression is intense.

"You're moving this weekend to Seattle. If you make the right decision, can I see you on Sunday?" He sounds hesitant.

"We'll see. Maybe." I breathe. Momentarily, he looks relieved, and then he frowns.

"Its cooler now, don't you have a jacket?"

"No."

He shakes his head and shrugs out of his jacket, "Here. I don't want you catching a cold."

I blink up at him as he holds it open, and as I hold me arms out behind me, I'm reminded of the time in his office when he slipped my coat onto my shoulders. The first time I met him, and the effect he had on me then. Nothing's changed.; in fact, it's more intense now. His jacket is warm, far too big, and it smells of him... delicious.

My car pulls up outside. Vincent's mouth drops open.

"That's what you drive?" He's appaled. Taking my hand, he leads me outside. The valet jumps out and hands me my keys, and Vincent cooly palms him some money.

"Is this roadworthy?" he's glaring at me now.

"Yes."

"Will it make it to Seattle?"

"Yes. She will."

"Safely?"

"Yes." I snap, exasperated. "Okay, she's old. But she's mine, and she's roadworthy. My stepdad bouth it for me."

"Oh, Catherine. I think we can do better than this."

"What do you mean?" Realization dawns, "You are _not _buying me a car."

He glowers at me, his jaw tense, "We'll see." he says tightly.

He grimaces as he opens the driver's-side door and helps in. I take my shoes off and roll down the window. He's gazing at me, his expression unfathomable, eyes dark.

"Drive safely." he says quietly.

"Good-bye, Vincent." My voice is hoarse from unbidden, unshed tears. _Jees, I'm not going to cry. _I give him a small smile.

* * *

><p>But as I drive away, my chest constricts, my tears start to fall, and I choke back a sob. Soon tears are streaming down my face, and I really don't understand why I'm crying. I was holding my own. He explained everything. He was clear. He wants me, but the truth of the matter is I need more. I need him to want me like I want and need him, and deep down I know that's not possible. I am just overwhelmed.<p>

I don't know how I even catergorize him if I do this... Will he be my boyfriend? Will I be able to introduce him to my friends? Go out to bars, the cinema, bowling even, with him? The truth is, I don't think he will. He won't let me touch him and he won't let me sleep with him. I know I've not had these things in my past, but I want them in my future. And that's not the future he envisages.

_What am I going to do?!_

* * *

><p>I pull outside our duplex. No lights on. Tess must be out. I'm relieved though. I don;t want her to catch me crying again.<p>

As I undress, I wake up the mean machine and sitting in my inbox is a message from Vincent.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Tonight

**Date:** May 25 2011 22:01

**To:** Catherine Chandler

I don't understand why you ran this evening. I sincerely hope I answered all your questions to your satisfaction. I know I have given you a lot to process, and I fervently hope that you will give my proposal your serious consideration. I really want to make this work. We will take it slow.

Trust me.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p>His e-mail makes me weep more. I am not a merger. I am not an acquuisition. Reading this, I might as well be. I don't reply. I just don't know what to say to him right now. I fumble into my pajamas and, wrapping his jacket around me, I climb into bed. As I lie staring into the darkness, I think of all the times he warned me to stay away.<p>

_Catherine, you should steer clear of me. I'm not the man for you._

_I don't do the girlfriend thing. _

_I'm not a hearts and flowers kind of guy._

_I don't make love._

_This is all I know._

And as I weep into my pillow silently, it's this last idea I cling to. This is all I know, too. Perhaps together we can chart a new course.

* * *

><p><em><strong>**Longer chapter, I know. Sorry about that. I didn't want to skip too many scenes in this chapter because it helps teach more about Vincent, and even Catherine. Their limits. I wonder if any of you see the hidden clues as to how this story is a love story? It may seem all about sex, but it truly isn't. Lol. I am so loving the reviews. They are truly what keeps me going on with this. For those of you wondering, this is the same exact storyline from the FSOG books. Certain scenes and words, I changed for my benefit. The characters, of course, changed to VinCat... another one of my benefits. I am mainly doing this for myself, but am so glad a lot of you like it. Please review, it helps me a lot. Thanks!** <strong>_


	14. Chapter 14

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*WARNING:<strong>** The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, ****graphic sexual content, and DOM/SUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*Extra:<strong>** I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: YOU ALL ARE TOTALLY, ABSOLUTELY, POSITIVELY AMAZING! I love you all! Thank you so much for sticking with me through this remake of FSOG. I am totally shocked that a lot of you haven't run for the hills yet lol. There will be a little revealed in this chapter as to why Vincent is so obsessed with food. Hope you all like it. Let's graduate! Hehe!)**

_Italics represent Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 14-<strong>_

Vincent is standing over me, grasping a plaited leather riding crop. He's wearing old, faded, ripped Levis and that's all. He flicks the crop slowly into his palm as he gazes down at me. He's smiling, triumphant. I can't move. I'm naked and shackled, spread-eagled on a large four-poster bed. Reaching forward, he trails the tip of the crop from my forehead down the length of my nose, so I can smell the leather, and over my parted lips. I'm panting once more as he trails it down under my chin, on down my neck to the hollow at the base of my throat. He swirls it slowly there and then continues to drag the tip down my body, along my sternum, between my breasts, over my torso, down to my navel. I'm panting even harder, squirming, pulling against the restraints that are biting into the flesh of my wrists and my ankles. He swirls the tip around my navel then continues to trail the leather tip south, to my clitoris. He flicks the crop and it hits my sweet spot with a sharp slap, and I get off, gloriously, shouting my release.

Abruptly, I wake, gasping for air, covered in sweat and feeling the aftershocks of my orgasm. _Holy hell! _I'm completely disoriented. _What the hell just happened? _I'm in my bedroom alone. _How? Why? _I sit upright, shocked... _wow. _It's morning. I glance at my alarm clock... _Eight o' clock. _I put my head in my hands. _I didn't know I could dream about sex. _Was it something I ate? Perhaps the oysters and my Internet research are combining together to manifest itself in my first wet dream. It's bewildering. I had no idea that I could get off in my sleep.

* * *

><p>Tess is skipping around the kitchen when I stagger in.<p>

"Cat, are you okay? You look odd. Is that Vincent's jacket you're wearing?"

"I'm fine." _Damn, should have checked myself before coming out in his jacket. _I avoid her piercing eyes. I'm still reeling from my morning's event, "Yes, this is Vincent's jacket."

She frowns, "Did you sleep?"

"Not very well." I say as I head for the kettle. I need a damned cup of tea.

"How was dinner?" she asks.

_And so it begins..._

"We had oysters. Followed by cod, so I'd say it was pretty fishy."

"Ugh... I hate oysters, and I don't want to know about the food. How was Vincent? What did you talk about?"

"He was attentive." I pause. _What can I say? His HIV status is clear, he's heavily into role-play, wants me to obey his every command, he hurt someone he tied to his playroom ceiling, and he wanted to fuck me in the private dinning room. Would that be a good summary?_ I try desperately to remember something from my encounter with Vincent that I can discuss with Tess.

"He doesn't approve of Wanda." I huff.

"Who does, Catherine? That's old news. Why are you being so coy? Give it up, girlfriend."

"Oh, Tess, we talked about lots of things. You know... how fussy he is about food. Incidentally, he liked your dress." The kettle has boiled, so I make myself some tea. "Do you want tea? Would you like me to hear your speech for today?" I ask trying to get the subject on anything but Vincent Keller.

"Yes, please. I worked on it last night over at Beth's. I'll go fetch it. And yes, I'd love some tea." Tess races out of the kitchen.

_Phew! _Tess Vargas sidetracked. _Mission accomplished! _I slice a bagel and pop it into the toaster. I flush, thinking about my vivid dream. _What on Earth was that about?_

* * *

><p>I am dressed and ready when Thomas arrives. I open the front door, and he's standing on the porch in his ill-fitting suit. A warm surge of gratitude and love for this uncomplicated man streaks through me, and I throw my arms around him in an uncharacteristic display of affection. Thomas is taken aback, bemused, "Hey, Kitten, I'm pleased to see you, too." he mutters as he hugs me. Seting me back down, his hands on my shoulders, he looks me up and down, his brow furrowed, "You okay, kiddo?"<p>

"Of course, Dad. Can't a girl be pleased to see her old man?"

He smiles, his bright blue eyes crinkling at the corners, and follows me into the living room.

"You look good." he says.

"This is Tess' dress." I glance down at the gray chiffon halter-neck dress.

He frowns, "Where is Tess?"

"She's gone to campus. She's giving a speech, so she has to be early."

"Should we head on over?" he asks.

"Dad, we have half and hour. Would you like some tea? And you can tell me how everyone in Montesano is getting along. How was the drive down?"

Thomas pulls his car into the campus parking lot, and we follow the stream of humanity dotted with ubiquitous black and red gowns heading toward the gym.

"Good luck, Kitten. You seem awfully nervous. Do you have to do anything?"

_Holy crap... why has Thomas picked today to be observant?_

"No, Dad. It's a big day." _And I'm going to see Vincent today._

"Yeah, my baby girl has gotten a degree. I'm proud of you, Catherine."

I blush, smiling. "Aw... thanks, Dad." _Oh, how I love him!_

* * *

><p>The auditorium is crowded. Thomas has gone to sit with the other parents and well-wishers in the tiered seating, while I make my way to my seat. I'm wearing my black gown and my cap, and I feel protected by them, anonymous. There is no one on the stage yet, but I can't seem to steady my nerves. My heart is pounding, and my breathing is shallow. He's here, somewhere. I can feel his presence. I wonder if Tess is talking to him, interrogating him maybe. I make my way to my seat amongst fellow students whose surnames also begin with C.<p>

I am in the second row, affording me yet more anonymity. I glance behind me and spot Thomas high up in the bleachers. I give him a wave and a smile. He self-consciously gives me a half-wave, half-salute back. I sit and wait.

The auditorium fills quickly, and the buzz of excited voices gets louder and louder. The row of seats in front fills. On either side of me, I am joined by two girls whom I don't know from a different department. They're obviously close friends and talk across me excitedly.

* * *

><p>At eleven precisely, the chancellor appears from behind the stage, followed by three vice chancellors and then the senior professors, all decked out in their black and red regalia. WE stand and applaud our teaching staff. Some professors nod and wave, others look broad. Professor Collins, my tutor and my favorite teacher looks like he's just fallen out of bed, as usual. Last on the stage are Tess and Vincent. Vincent stands out in his bespoke gray suit. He looks so serious and self-contained. As he sits, he undoes his single-breasted jacket, and I glimpse his tie.<p>

_Holy shit! THAT TIE?! _I rub my wrists reflexively in the delicious thought of how that tie had me bound to my bed the other night. _Oh my God! _I can't take my eyes off him. He's wearing that tie, on purpose no doubt. My mouth presses into a hard line. The audience sits down and the applause ceases.

"Look at him!" one of the girls beside me hisses enthusiastically to her friend.

"He's hot." the other one whispers.

I stiffen. I'm sure they're not talking about Professor Collins.

"Must be Vincent Keller." I whisper.

"Is he single?" one of them ask me.

I bristle, "I don't think so." I murmur.

"Oh." Both girls look at me in surprise.

"I think he's gay." I mutter.

"What a shame." one of the girls groans.

As the chancellor gets to his feet and kicks off the proceedings with speech, I watch Vincent subtly scanning the hall. I sink into my seat, hunching my shoulders, trying to make myself invisible. I fail miserably as a second later his eyes stop on mine. He stares at me, his face impassive, completely inscrutable. I squirm uncomfortably, hypnotized by his glare as a slow flush spreads across my face. Unbidden, I recall my dream from this morning and the muscles in my belly do the delectable clench thing. I inhale sharply. The shadow of a smile crosses his lips, but it's fleeting. He briefly closes his eyes and, on opening them, resumes his indifferent expression. Following a swift glance up at the chancellor, he stares ahead, focusing on the WSUV emblem hung above the entrance. He doesn't turn his eyes toward me again. The chancellor drones on, and Vincent still doesn't look at me. He just stares fixedly ahead.

_Why won't he look at me? _Perhaps he's changed his mind? A wave of unease washes over me. Perhaps walking out on him last night was the end for him, too. He's bored of waiting for me to make up my mind. _Oh no! _I could have completely blown it. I remember his e-mail last night. Maybe he's mad that I haven't replied.

Suddenly, the room erupts into applause as Miss Tess Vargas has taken the stage. The chancellor sits, and Tess tosses her lovely, long brown hair behind her as she places her papers on the lectern. She takes her time, not intimidated by a thousand people staring at her. She smiles when she's ready, looks up at the captivated throng, and launches eloquently into her speech. She's composed and funny, the girls beside me erupt on cue at her first joke. _Oh, Tess Vargas, you can deliver a good line._

I'm so proud of her at that moment, my errant thoughts of Vincent pushed to one side. Even though I have heard her speech before, I listen carefully. She commands the room and takes her audience with her.

Her theme is 'What Next After College?' _Oh, what next indeed. _Vincent is watching Tess, his eyebrows raised, in surprise, I think. Yes, it could have been Tess who he was now making indecent proposals to. Beautiful Tess and beautiful Vincent, together. I could be like the other two girls beside me, admiring him from afar. I know Tess wouldn't have given him the time of day.

_What __did__ she call him the other day?_ Creepy. The thought of a confrontation between Tess and Vincent makes me uncomfortable. I have to say I don't know which of them I would put my money on.

Tess concludes her speech with a flourish, and spontaneously everyone stands, applauding and cheering, her first standing ovation. I beam at he and cheer, and she grins back at me. _Good job, Tess!_

She sits, as does the audience, and the chancellor rises and introduces Vincent... _Holy shit, Vincent's going to give a speech._The chancellor touches briefly on Vincent's achievements: CEO of his own extraordinarily successful company, a real self-made man.

"... and also a major benefactor to our university. Please welcome Mr. Vincent Keller."

The chancellor pumps Vincent's hand, and there is a swell of polite applause. My heart's in my throat. HE approaches the lectern and surveys the hall. He looks so confident standing in front of us all, as Tess did before him. The two girls beside me lean in, entraptured. In fact, I think most of the female members of the audience inch closer and a few of the men. He begins, his voice soft, measured, and mesmerizing.

"I'm profoundly grateful and touched by the great compliment accorded to me by the authorities of WSU today. It offers me a rare opportunity to talk about the impressive work of the environmental science department here at the university. Our aim is to develop viable and ecologically sustainable methods of farming for third world countries; our ultimate goal is to help eradicate hunger and poverty across the globe. Over a billion people, mainly in sub-Saharan Africa, South Asia, and Latin America, live in abject poverty. Agricultural dysfunction is rife within these parts of the world, and the result is ecological and social destruction. I have known what it's like to be profoundly hungry. This is a very personal journey for me..."

My jaw completely falls to the floor. _What? _Vincent was hungry once._ Holy crap! _Well, that explains a great deal. And I recall the interview; he really _does_ want to feed the world. I desperately rack my brain to remember what Tess had written in her article. Adopted at age four, I think. I can't imagine that Mary starved him, so it must have been before then, as a little boy. I swallow back tears, as this truly pains me to my core. My heart constricts at the thought of a hungry, golden brown-eyed toddler. _Oh my! _What kind of life did he have before the Keller's got hold on him and rescued him?

I'm seized by a sense of raw outrage. _Poor, fucked-up, kinky, philanthropic Vincent... _Though I'm sure he wouldn't see himself this way and would repel any thoughts of sympathy or pity. Abruptly, everyone erupts into applause and stands. I follow, though I haven't heard half his speech. He's doing all of these good works, running a huge company, and chasing me at the same time. It's overwhelming. I remember the brief snippets of conversation he's had about Darfur... it all falls into place. _Food._

He smiles briefly at the warm applause. Even Tess is clapping. Then he resumes his seat. He still doesn't look at me and I'm off-kilter trying to assimilate the new information about him.

* * *

><p>One of the vice chancellors rises, and we begin the long tedious process of collecting our degrees. There are more than four hundred to be given out, and it takes nearly twenty-five minutes before I hear my name called. I sigh heavily, closing my eyes, knowing I'm going to be close to him in a matter of seconds. I make my way up to the stage between the two giggling girls. Vincent gazes down at me, his look warm but guarded.<p>

"Congratulations, Miss Chandler." he says as he shakes me hand, squeezing it gently. I feel the electric charge, almost instantaneously, of his flesh touching mine. "Do you have a problem with your laptop?" he whispers.

I frown as he hands me my degree.

"No."

"Then you are ignoring my e-mails?"

"I only saw the mergers and acquisitions one."

He looks quizzically at me.

"Later." he says, and I have to move on because I'm holding up the line.

I go back to my seat. _E-mails? _He must have sent another. _What did it say?_

The ceremony takes another hour to be concluded. It's interminable. Finally, the chancellor leads the faculty members off the stage to yet more rousing applause, preceded by Vincent and Tess. Vincent does not glance at me, even though I'm willing him to do it. My inner goddess in not pleased with me, and I guess you could say that I'm not pleased with myself either.

* * *

><p>As I stand and wait for our row to disperse, Tess calls to me. She's heading my way from behind the stage.<p>

"Vincent wants to talk to you." she shouts. The two girls who sat next to me, turn and gape at me.

"He's sent me out here." she continues.

_Oh..._

"Your speech was great, Tess." I smile.

"It was, wasn't it?" She beams, "Are you coming? He can be very insistent." She rolls her eyes, and I grin.

"You have no idea. I can't leave Thomas for long." I glance up at Thomas and hold my fingers up indicating five minutes. He nods, giving me an 'okay' sign, and I follow Tess into the corridor behind the stage. Vincent is talking to the chancellor and two of the teaching staff. He looks up when he sees me.

"Excuse me, gentlemen." I hear him murmur. He comes toward me and smiles briefly at Tess, "Thank you." he says, and before she can reply, he takes my elbow and steers me into what looks like a men's locker room. He checks to see if it's empty, and then he locks the door.

_Oh shit... What does he have in mind? _I blink up at him as he turns on me, "Why haven't you e-mailed me? Or texted me back?" He glares. I'm nonplussed.

"I haven't looked at my computer today, or my phone." _Crap, has he been trying to call? _I try my distraction technique that's so effective on Tess, "That was a great speech."

"Thank you."

"Explains your food issues to me." I whisper.

He runs a hand through his hair, exasperated, "Catherine, I don't want to go there at the moment." He closes his eyes, looking pained, "I've been worried about you."

"Worried, why?" _I'm shocked._

"Because you went home in that deathtrap you call a car."

"What? It's not a deathtrap. It's fine. Patrick regularly services it for me."

"Patrick? The photographer?" Vincent's eyes narrow, his face frosting. _Oh, crap!_

"Yes, the Beetle used to belong to his mother, which gave it to Thomas, and then he gave it to me."

"Yes, and probably belonged to her mother, and her mother before her. It's not safe."

"I've been driving it for over three years. I'm sorry you were worried. Why didn't you call?" _Jeez, he's completely overreacting._

He takes a deep breath, "Catherine, I need an answer from you. This waiting around is driving me crazy."

"Vincent, I... look, I've left my stepdad on his own."

"Tomorrow. I want an answer by tomorrow."

"Okay, tomorrow. I'll tell you then." I sigh.

He steps back, regarding me coolly, and his shoulders relax. "Are you staying for drinks?" he asks.

"I don't know what Thomas wants to do."

"Your stepfather? I'd like to meet him."

_Oh no... WHY?!_

"I'm not sure that's a good idea." I mutter.

Vincent unlocks the door, his mouth in a grim line, "Are you ashamed of me?" he asks.

"No!" It's my turn to sound exasperated, "Introduce you to my dad, as what? 'Oh hey dad, meet Vincent, he deflowered me and wants us to start a BDSM relationship'? You're not wearing running shoes."

Vincent glares down at me, and then his lips twitch up in a smile. And in spite of me being angry with him, I grin too.

"Just so you know, I can run quite fast. Just tell him I'm your friend, Catherine."

He opens the door, and I head out. My mind is whirling. The chancellor, four professors, and Tess stare at me as I walk hastily past them. _Crap!_

Leaving Vincent, I go in search of Thomas.

_Tell him I'm your friend._

_Friend with benefits, _my subconscious scowls. I know, I know. I shake the unpleasant thought away. How will I introduce him to Thomas? The hall is still at least half full, and Thomas has not moved from his spot. He sees me, waves, and makes his way down.

"Hey, Kitten. Congratulations!" He puts his arm around me.

"Would you like to come and have a drink in the marquee?"

"Sure. It's your day, darling. Lead the way."

"We don't have to if you don't want to." _Please say no..._

"Catherine, I've just sat for two and a half hours listening to all kinds of jabbering. I need a drink."

I put my arm through his, and we stroll out with the throng into the warmth of the early afternoon. We pass the line for the official photographer.

"Oh, that reminds me." Thomas drags a digital camera out of his pocket, "One for the album, Kitten." I roll my eyes at him as he snaps a picture of me.

"Can I take the cap and gown off now? I feel kind of dorky." I giggle.

_You look kinda dorky... _My subconscious is at her snarky best. _So are you going to introduce Thomas to the man you're fucking? _She is glaring at me over her wing-shaped spectacles. _He'd be so proud!_ God I hate her!

"Cat!" I turn and Tim Vargas scoops me up into his arms. He twirls me around, without spilling my wine. _Some feat._

"Congratulations!" He beams down at me, green eyes twinkling.

What a surprise. His dark brown hair is tousled and sexy. He's as beautiful as Tess. The family resemblance is strinking.

"Wow! Tim! How lovely to see you. Dad, this is Tim, Tess' brother. Tim, this is my dad, Thomas Chandler." They shake hands, my dad coolly assessing Mr. Vargas.

"When did you get back from Europe?" I ask.

"I've been back for a week, but I wanted to surprise my little sister." he says conspiratorially.

"That's so sweet." I grin.

"She is valedictorian, couldn't miss that." Tim smiles, looking immensely proud of his sister, "She gave a great speech." he continues.

"That she did." Thomas agrees.

Tim has his arm around my waist when I look up into the heart-melting brown orbs belonging to Vincent Keller. Tess is beside him.

"Hello, Thomas." Tess kisses Thomas on both cheeks, making him blush. "Have you met Cat's boyfriend? Vincent Keller."

_Holy shit!... Tess! Fuck! _All the blood drains from my face.

"Mr. Chandler, it's a pleasure to meet you." Vincent says smoothly, warmly, completely unflustered by Tess' introduction. He holds out his hand, which Thomas, all credit to him, takes, not showing a hint of the drop-dead surprise he's just had thrust upon him.

_Thank you very much, Tess Vargas, _I fume. I think my subconscious has fainted.

"Mr. Keller." Thomas murmurs, his expression indecipherable except perhaps for the slight widening of his big blue eyes. They slide over to my face with a when-were-you-going-to-tell-me-this-news look. I bite my lip.

"And this is my brother, Tim." Tess says to Vincent.

Vincent turns his arctic glare on Tim, who still has his arm around my waist, "Mr. Vargas."

They shake hands. Vincent holds his hand out to me, "Catherine, baby." he murmurs and I nearly expire at the endearment.

I walk out of Tim's grasp, and Vincent smiles icily at Tim, and I take my place at Vincent's side. Tess grins at me. She knows exactly what she's doing, _the vixen!_

"Tim, Mom and Dad wanted a word." Tess drags Tim away.

Thomas clears his throat, "So how long have you kids known each other?"

The power of speech has deserted me. I want the ground to just swallow me up. Vincent puts his arm around me, his thumb strumming my naked back in a caress, before his hand claps my shoulder.

"Couple of weeks or so now." he says smoothly, "We met when Catherine came to interview me for the school newspaper."

"Didn't know you worked for the student paper, Cat." Thomas' voice is a quiet admonishment, revealing his irritation.

_Shit!_

"Tess was ill." I murmur. It's all I can manage.

"Fine speech you gave, Mr. Keller." Thomas says.

"Thank you, sir. I understand that you're a keen fisherman."

Thomas raises his eyebrows and smiles, a rare, genuine, bona fide Thomas Chandler smile. And off they go, talking fish. In fact, I soon feel surplus to requirements. He's charming the pants off my dad... _like he did to you, _my subconscious snaps at me. His power knows no bonds. I finally excuse myself and go find Tess. She's talking to her parents, who are delightful as ever and greet me warmly. We exchange brief pleasantries, mostly about their up and coming vacation to Barbados and about our move.

"Tess, how could you out me to Thomas?" I hiss at the first opportunity we won't be overheard.

"Because I knew you wouldn't, and I want to help with Vincent's commitment issues." Tess smiles at me sweetly.

I scowl. _It's me that won't commit to him, silly!_

"He seems tres cool about it, Cat. Don't sweat it. Look at him now. Vincent can't take his eyes off you." I glance up and both Thomas and Vincent are looking at me. "He's been watching you like a hawk." she continues.

"I'd better go rescue Thomas, or Vincent. I don't know which. You haven't heard the last of this, Tess Vargas!" I glare at her.

"Cat, I did you a favor!" she calls after me.

* * *

><p>"Hi." I smile at both, Thomas and Vincent as I approach them.<p>

They seem okay. _Praise Jesus!_

"Cat, where are the restrooms?" my dad asks.

"Back out front of the marquee and to the left."

"See you in a moment. You kids enjoy yourselves."

Thomas heads out. I glance nervously up at Vincent. We pause briefly as a photographer takes a picture of both of us.

"Thank you, Mr. Keller." The photographer scurries off. I blink from the flash.

"So you've charmed my father as well?" I ask.

"As well?" Vincent's eyes burn and he raises a brow. I flush. He lifts his hand and traces my cheek with his fingers.

"Oh, I wish I knew what you were thinking, Catherine." he whispers darkly, cupping my chin and raising my head so that we gaze intently into each other's eyes.

My breath hitches. _How can he have this effect on me, even in this crowded tent?_

"Right now, I'm thinking, _Nice tie._" I breathe.

He chuckles, "It's recently become my favorite."

I blush scarlet.

"You look lovely, Catherine. This halter-neck dress suits you, and I get to stroke your back, feel your beautiful skin."

Suddenly, it's like we're on our own in the room. Just the two of us. My whole body has come alive, every nerve ending singing softly, that electricity pulling me to him, changing between us.

"You know it's going to be good, don't you, Catherine?" he whispers. I close my eyes as my insides uncoil and melt.

"But I want more." I whisper.

"More?" he looks down at me puzzled, his eyes darkening. I nod and swallow. _Now he knows._

"More." he say again softly. Testing the word. A small, simple word, but so full of promise. His thumb traces my lower lip, "You want hearts and flowers." he breathes.

I nod again. He blinks down at me, and I watch his internal struggle played out in his eyes.

"Catherine." his voice is soft, "It's not something I know."

"Me, either."

He smiles slightly, "You don't know much." he murmurs.

"You know all the wrong things." I whisper, gazing into his eyes.

"Wrong? Not to me." He shakes his head. He looks so sincere, "Try it." he whispers.

_A challenge_... Daring me, and he cocks his head to one side and smiles his crooked, dazzling smile.

I gasp, and I'm Eve in the Garden of Eden, and he's the serpent and I can't resist, "Okay." I whisper.

"What?" I have his full, undivided attention. I swallow.

"Okay, I'll try it."

"You're agreeing?" His disbelief is evident.

"Subject to the soft limits, yes. I'll try." My voice is so small. _You fucking idiot! _My subconscious screams at me. What a bitch...

Vincent closes his eyes and pulls me into an embrace, "Jesus, Catherine. You're so unexpected. You take my breath away."

He steps back, and suddenly Thomas' returned, and the volume in the marquee gradually rises and fills my ears. We are not alone. _Holy shit! I've just agreed to be his sub. _Vincent smiles at Thomas and his eyes are dancing with joy.

"Kitten, should we get some lunch?" dad asks.

"Okay." I breathe, releasing the breath I had been holding in. _What have you done?! _My subconscious screams at me again. My inner goddess is doing back-flips in a routine worthy of a Russian Olympic gymnast.

"Would you like to join us, Vincent?" Thomas asks.

_Vincent! _I stare up at him, imploring him to refuse. I need space to think... _what the fuck have I done?! _

"Thank you, Mr. Chandler, but I have plans. It's been great to meet you, sir."

"Likewise," Thomas responds, "Look after my baby girl, Vincent." my dad says, almost in warning.

Vincent smiles, "Oh, I fully intend to."

They shake hands and I feel sick. Thomas has no idea_ how _Vincent intends to look after me. Vincent takes my hand and brings it to his lips and kisses my knuckles tenderly, his scorching eyes intent on mine.

"Later, Miss Chandler." he breathes, his voice full of promise.

My belly curls at the thought. _Hang on... later?_

Thomas takes my elbow and leads me toward the entrance to the tent.

"Seems a solid young man. Well off, too. You could so a lot worse, Kitten. Though why I had to hear about him from Tess..." he scolds.

I shrug apologetically.

"Well, any man who likes and knows his fly-fishing is okay with me."

_Holy cow! _Thomas approves._ If only he knew._

* * *

><p>Thomas drops me back to my apartment at duck.<p>

"Call your mom." he says.

"I will. Thanks for coming, Dad."

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world, Kitten. You make me so proud."

_Oh no. I'm not going to cry._ A huge lump formed in my throat, and I hug him, hard. He puts his arms around me, bemused, and I can't help it. Tears pool in my eyes.

"Hey, Catherine, sweetheart." Thomas croons, "Big old day, eh? Want me to come in and fix you some tea?"

I laugh, in spite of my tears. Tea is always the answer, according to Thomas. I remember my mother complaining about him, saying that when it came to tea and sympathy, he was always good at the tea, not so much on the sympathy.

"No, Dad. I'm good. It's been so great to see you. I'll visit real soon once I'm settled in Seattle."

"Good luck with the interviews, Kitten. Let me know how they go."

"Sure thing, Dad."

"Love you, Catherine."

"Love you too, Dad."

He smiles, his blue eyes warm, glowing, and he climbs back into his car. I wave him off as he drives into the dusk, and I wander listlessly back into the apartment.

* * *

><p>First thing I do once I'm inside is check my cell phone. It needs recharging, so I have to hunt for my charger and plug it in before I can collect my messages. Four missed calls, one voice message, and two texts. Three missed calls from Vincent... no messages. One missed call from Patrick and a voice mail from him wishing me all the best for graduation.<p>

I open the texts...

* * *

><p><strong>*Are you home safe?*<strong>

***Call me***

* * *

><p>They are both from Vincent. <em>Why didn't he call the house?<em> I head into my bedroom and fire up the mean machine...

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Tonight

**Date: **May 25 2011 23:58

**To:** Catherine Chandler

I hope you made it home in that car of yours.

Let me know if you're okay.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><em>Jeez... why is he so worried about my Beetle? <em>It has given me threes years of loyal service, and Patrick has always been on hand to maintain it for me. Vincent's next e-mail is from today.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject: **Soft Limits

**Date:** May 26 2011 17:22

**To: **Catherine Chandler

What can I say that I haven't already?

Happy to talk these through anytime.

You looked beautiful today.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p>I want to see him. I hit reply.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject: **Soft Limits

**Date:** May 26 2011 19:23

**To:** Vincent Keller

I can come over this evening to discuss if you'd like.

Cat

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Soft Limits

**Date: **May 26 2011 19:27

**To: **Catherine Chandler

I'll come to you. I meant it when I said I wasn't happy about you driving that car.

I'll be with you shortly.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><em>Holy Crap... he's coming over now! <em>I have to get one thing ready for him. The first edition Thomas Hardy books are still on the shelves in the living room. I can't keep them. I wrap them in brown paper, and I scrawl on the wrapping a direct quote from Tess from the book:

_'I agree to the conditions, Angel; because you know best what my punishment ought to be; only–only–don't make it more than I can bare!'_

* * *

><p><em><strong>**So how was that? Reviews! XOXO!**<strong>_


	15. Chapter 15

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*WARNING:<strong>** The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, ****graphic sexual content, and DOM/SUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*Extra:<strong>** I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: I wrote two chapters last night because I could not sleep. I was very restless and plus my husband was gassy. O.O Anyways, I thank you all for the awesome reviews! Enjoy the next Chapter. Oh and Janell, I will let you know to get your ice box ready lmao! Love you girl!)**

_Italics represent Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 15-<strong>_

I feel unbearably shy when I open the door. Vincent is standing on the porch in his jeans and leather jacket.

"Hi." I breathe.

"Hi." he says, and his face lights up with his radiant smile. I take a moment to admire him. _Oh mo, he's hot in leather._

"Come in."

"If I may." he says, amused. He holds up a bottle of champagne as he walks in, "I thought we'd celebrate your graduation. Nothing beats a good Bollinger."

"Interesting choice of words." I comment dryly.

He grins, "Oh, I like your ready wit, Catherine."

"We only have teacups. We've packed all the glasses."

"Teacups? Sounds good to me."

I head into the kitchen. I'm nervous, butterflies flooding my stomach, it's like having a panther or mountain lion all unpredictable and predatory in my living room.

"Do you want saucers as well?" I ask.

"Teacups will be fine, Catherine." Vincent calls distractedly from the living room.

When I return, he's staring at the brown parcel of books. I place the cups onto the table, "That's for you." I murmur.

_Crap... this is probably going to be a fight._

"Hmm, I figured as much. Very apt quote." His long index finger absently traces the writing, "I thought I was d'Urberville, not Angel. You decided on the debasement." he gives me a brief wolfish smile, "Trust you to find something that resonates so appropiately."

"It's also a plea." I whisper. _Why am I so nervous? _My mouth is dry.

"A plea? For me to go easy on you?"

I nod.

"I bought these for you." he says quietly, his gaze impassive, "I'll go easier on you if you accept them."

I swallow convulsively.

"Vincent, I can't accept them, they're just too much."

"You see? This is what I was talking about, you defying me. I want you to have them, and that's the end of the discussion. It's very simple. You don't have to think about this. As a submissive you would just be grateful for them. You just accept what I buy you because it pleases me for you to do so."

"I wasn't a submissive when you bought them for me." I whisper.

"No... but you've agreed, Catherine." His eyes turn wary.

I sigh. _I'm not going to win this, so over to plan B._

"So they are mine to do with as I wish?" I murmur.

He eyes me suspiciously, "Yes."

"In that case, I'd like to give them to a charity, one working in Darfur since that seems to be close to your heart. They can auction them."

"If that's what you want to do." his mouth seats into a hard line. He's disappointed.

I flush.

"I'll think about it." I murmur. I don't want to hurt his feelings. His words come back to me. _I want you to want to please me._

"Don't think, Catherine. Not about this." his tone is quiet and serious.

How can I not think? _You could pretend to be a car, like his other possessions, _my subconscious makes an unwelcome vitriolic return. I ignore her. _Oh, can't we rewind? _The atmosphere between us is now tense. I don't know what to do. I stare down at my fingers. _How do I retrieve this situation?_

He puts the champagne bottle on the table and stands in front of me. Putting his hand under my chin, he tilts my head up. He gazes down at me, his expression grave.

"I will buy you lots of things, Catherine. Get used to it. I can afford it, I'm very wealthy." He leans down and plants a swift, chaste kiss on my lips, "Please." he releases me.

_Yep, you a ho! _My subconscious hisses at me.

"It makes me feel cheap." I murmur.

Vincent runs his hand through his hair, exasperated, "It shouldn't. You're over-thinking it, Catherine. Don't place some vague moral judgment on yourself based on what others might think. Don't waste your energy. It's only because you have reservations about our arrangement; that's perfectly natural. You don't know what you're getting yourself into."

I frown, trying to process his words.

"Hey, stop this." he commands softly, cupping my chin again and pulling at it gently so I release my lower lip from my teeth. "There is nothing about you cheap, Catherine. I won't have you thinking that. I just bought you some old books that I thought might mean something to you, that's all. Have some champagne." his eyes warm and soften, and I smile tentatively up at him.

"That's better." he murmurs. He picks up the champagne, takes off the foil top and cage, twists the bottle rather than the cork, and opens it with a small pop and a practiced flourish that doesn't spill a drop. He half fills the cups.

"It's pink." I mutter, surprised."Bollinger Grande Annee Rose 1999, an excellent vintage." he says with relish.

"In teacups."

He grins, "In teacups. Congratulations on your degree, Catherine." We clink cups, and he takes a drink, but I can't help thinking this is really about my capitulation.

"Thank you." I murmur, and take a sip. Of course it's delicious, "Shall we go through the soft limits?"

He smiles and I blush, "Always so eager." Vincent takes my hand and leads me to the couch, where he sits and tugs me down beside him.

"You stepfather's a very taciturn man."

_Oh... not soft limits, then. I just want to get this out of the way; the anxiety is gnawing at me._

"You managed to get him eating out of your hand." I pout.

Vincent laughs softly, "Only because I know how to fish."

"How did you know he liked fishing?"

"You told me. When we went for coffee."

"Oh... did I?" I take another sip. _Wow, he has a memory for detail. Hmm... this champagne really is very good. _"Did you try the wine at the reception?" I ask.

Vincent makes a face, "Yes. It was foul."

"I thought of you when I tasted it. How did you get to be so knowledgeable about wine?"

"I'm not knowledgeable, Catherine. I just know what I like." His eyes shine, and it makes me flush. "Some more?" he asks, referring to the champagne.

"Please."

Vincent rises gracefully and collects the bottle. He fills my cup. _Is he trying to get me drunk? _I eye him suspiciously.

"This place looks pretty bare. Are you ready for the move?"

"More or less."

"Are you working tomorrow?"

"Yes, my last day at Clayton's."

"I'd help you move, but I promised to meet my sister at the airport."

_Oh... this is news._

"Tori arrives from Paris very early Saturday morning. I'm heading back to Seattle tomorrow, but I hear JT is giving you two a hand."

"Yes, Tess is very excited about that."

Vincent frowns, "Yes, Tess and JT, who would have thought?" he murmurs, and for some reason he doesn't look pleased. "So what are you doing about work in Seattle?"

_When are we going to talk about the limits? What's his game?_

"I have a couple of interviews for intern places."

"You were going to tell me this when?" He arches a brow.

"Er... I'm telling you now."

He narrows his eyes, "Where?"

For some reason, possibly because he might use his influence, I don't want to tell him.

"A couple of publishing houses." I whisper.

"Is that what you want to do, something in publishing?"

I nod warily.

"Well?" he looks at me patiently wanting more information.

"Well, what?" I snap.

"Don't be obtuse, Catherine. Which publishing houses?" he scolds.

"Just small ones." I murmur.

"Why don't you want me to know?"

"Undue influence."

He frowns.

"Oh, now _you're _being obtuse." I say low.

He laughs, "Obtuse? Me? God, you're challenging. Drink up, let's talk about these limits." He fishes out another copy of my e-mail and the list. _Does he wander about with these lists in his pockets?_ I think there's one in his jacket that I have. _Shit, I'd better not forget that. _I drain my cup.

He glances quickly at me, "More?"

"Please."

He smiles that oh-so-smug private smile of his, holds the champagne bottle up, and pauses, "Have you eaten anything?"

_Oh no... not this again._

"Yes. I had a three-course meal with Thomas." I roll my eyes at him. The champagne is making me bold.

He leans forward and holds my chin, staring intently into my eyes, "Next time you roll your eyes at me, I will take you across my knee."

_What?!_

"Oh." I breathe, and I can see the excitement in his eyes.

"Oh." he responds, mirroring my tone, "And so it begins, Catherine."

My heart slams against my chest, and the butterflies escape from my stomach into my constricting throat. _Why is that hot? _

He fills my cup, and I drink practically all of it. Chastened, I stare up at him.

"Got your attention now, haven't I?" he whispers.

I nod.

"Answer me." he says softly.

"Yes... you've got my attention."

"Good." he smiles a knowing smile, "So sexual acts. We've done most of this."

I move closer to him on the couch and glance down at the list.

"No fisting, you say. Anything else you object to?" he asks softly.

I swallow...hard.

"Anal intercourse doesn't exactly float my boat." I murmur.

"I'll agree to the fisting, but I'd really like to claim your ass, Catherine. But we'll wait for that. Besides, it's not something we can dive into." he smirks at me, "Your ass will need training."

"Training?" I whisper. _Why am I asking him this? Do I even want to know?_

"Oh yes. It'll need careful preparation. Anal intercourse can be very pleasurable, trust me. But if we try it and you don't like it, we don't have to do it again." He grins down at me.

I blink up at him. He thinks I'll enjoy it? How does he know it's pleasurable?

"Have you done that?" I whisper.

"Yes."

_Holy crap... _I gasp.

"With a man?"

"No. I've never had sex with a man. Not my scene."

"Mrs. Robinson?" _You just had to ask...Ugh!_

"Yes."

_Holy shit!...how? _I frown. He moves on down the list.

"And... swallowing semen. Well, you get an A in that."

I flush, and my inner goddess is smacking her lips together, glowing with pride.

"So." he looks down at me grinning, "Is that still okay to do?"

I nod, not able to look him in the eye, and drain my cup again.

"More?" he asks."

"More." and I'm suddenly reminded of our conversation earlier today as he refills my cup. Is he referring to that or just the champagne? Is this whole champagne thing more?

"Sex toys?" he asks.

I shrug, glancing at the list.

"Butt plug? Does it do what it says on the box?" I scrunch my nose up in distaste.

"Yes." he smiles, "And I refer to anal intercourse above. Training."

"Oh... what's in other?"

"Beads, eggs... that sort of stuff."

"Eggs?!" I'm alarmed.

"Not real eggs." he laughs loudly, shaking his head.

I purse my lips up at him, "I'm glad you find me funny." I can't keep my injured feelings out of my voice.

He stops laughing.

"I apologize. Miss Chandler, I'm sorry." he says, trying to look contrite, but his eyes are still dancing with humor. "Any problems with toys?"

"No." I snap.

"Catherine." he cajoles, "I am sorry. Believe me. I don't mean to laugh. I've never had this conversation in so much detail. You're just so inexperienced. I'm sorry." his eyes are big and brown and sincere.

I thaw a little and take another sip of champagne.

"Right... Bondage." he says, returning to the list. I examine the list, and my inner goddess bounces up and down like a small child on Christmas.

Vincent raises his eyebrow, "Well?"

"Fine by me." I whisper and quickly look back at the list.

"We've talked about suspension. And it's fine if you want to set that up as a hard limit. It takes a great deal of time, and I only have you for short periods of time anyway. Anything else?" he says.

"Don't laugh at me, but what's a spreader bar?"

"I promise not to laugh. I've apologized twice." He glances at me, "Don't make me do it again." he warns. And I think I visibly shrink... _oh, he's so bossy! _"A spreader is a bar with cuffs for ankles and/or wrists. They're fun."

"Okay...Well, gagging me. I'd be worried I wouldn't be able to breathe."

"_I'd _be worried if you couldn't breathe. I don't want to suffocate you."

"And how will I use safe words if I'm gagged?"

He pauses, "First of all, I hope you never have to use safe words. But if you're gagged, we'll use hand signals." he says simply.

I blink up at him. _But if I'm trussed up, how's that going to work?_ My brain is beginning to fog... _hmm, alcohol._

"I'm nervous about the gagging." I whisper.

"Okay, I'll take note." he says.

I stare up at him, realization dawning, "Do you like tying up your submissives so they can't touch you?"

He gazes down at me, his eyes widening.

"That's one of the reasons." he says quietly.

"Is that why you've tied my hands?"

"Yes."

"You don't like talking about it, do you?" I murmur.

"No, I don't. Would you like another drink? It's making you brave, and I need to know how you feel about pain."

_I knew it! He's getting me drunk on purpose! _I nod anyway, and he fills my cup.

"So what's your general attitude to receiving pain?" Vincent looks expectantly at me, "You're biting your lip." he says darkly.

I stop immediately, but I don't know what to say. I flush and stare at my hands.

"Were you physically punished as a child?" he asks.

"No."

"So you have no sphere of reference at all?"

"No."

"It's not as bad as you think. Your imagination is your worst enemy in this." he whisper.

"Do you have to do it?" I ask, low.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Goes with the territory, Catherine. It's what I do. I can see you're nervous. Let's go through methods." he says and we both look down at the list.

"Well, you said no to genital clamps. That's fine. It's caning that hurts the most." he says.

I blanch.

"We can work up to that." he adds.

"Or not do it at all." I whisper.

"This is part of the deal, baby, but we'll work up to all of this. Catherine, I won't push you too far. Trust me."

"This punishment thing, it worries me the most." my voice is very small.

"Well, I'm glad you've told me. We'll keep caning off the list for now. And as you get more comfortable with everything else, we'll increase intensity. We'll take it slow."

I swallow, and he leans forward ad kisses me on my lips, "There, that wasn't so bad was it?"

I shrug, my heart in my mouth again.

He sighs, "Look, I want to talk about one more thing, then I'm taking you to bed."

"Bed?" I blink rapidly, and my blood pounds through my body, warming places I didn't know existed until very recently.

"Come on, Catherine. Talking through all of this makes me want to fuck you into next week, right now. It must be having some effect on you too."

"I squirm. My inner goddess is panting.

"See? Besides, there's something I want to try."

"Something painful?" I ask.

"No... Stop seeing pain everywhere. It's mainly pleasure. Have I hurt you yet?"

I flush, "No."

"Well, then. Look, earlier today you were talking about wanting more." he halts, uncertain all of a sudden.

_Oh my... where is he going with this?_

He clasps my hand, "Outside of the time that you're my sub, perhaps we could try. I don't know if it will work. I don't know about separating everything. It may not work. But I'm willing to try. Maybe one night a week. I don't know."

_Oh my God! _My mouth drops open, my subconscious is in shock, and my inner goddess has fainted. _Vincent Keller is up for more! He's willing to try! _My subconscious peeks from behind the couch, still registering shock on her harpy face.

"I have one condition." he looks warily at my stunned expression.

"What?" I breathe. _Anything. I'll give you anything!_

"You graciously accept my graduation present to you."

"Oh." And deep down, I already know what it is.

He's staring down at me, gauging my reaction.

"Come on." he murmurs, and rises, dragging me up. Taking his jacket off, he drapes it over my shoulders and heads for the door.

* * *

><p>Parked outside is a red hatchback car, two-door compact Audi.<p>

"It's for you. Happy graduation." he murmurs, pulling me into his arms and kissing my hair.

He's bought me a damned a car, brand-new by the looks of it. _Jeez... I've had enough trouble with the books. _I stare at it blankly, trying desperately to determine how I feel about this. I'm appalled on one level, grateful on another, shocked that he's actually done it, but the overriding emotion is anger. Yes, I'm angry, especially after everything I told him about the books... but then he'd already bought this. Taking my hand, he leads me down the path toward this new acquisition.

"Catherine, that Beetle of yours is old and frankly dangerous. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you when it's so easy for me to make it right..."

I stand silently staring at it's awesome bright red newness.

"I mentioned it to your stepfather. He was all for it." he adds.

Turning I glare up at him, my mouth open in horror, "You mentioned this to Thomas? How could you?" I can barely spit the words out. _How dare he? _Poor Thomas. I feel sick, mortified for my dad.

"It's a gift, Catherine. Can't you just say thank you?"

"But you know it's too much."

"Not to me it isn't, not for my peace of mind."

I frown at him, at a loss on what to say. _He doesn't get it! _He's had money all his life. Okay, not all his life. Not as a small child, and my worldview shifts. The thought is very sobering, and I soften toward the car, feeling guilty about my fit of pique. His intentions are good, misguided, but not from a bad place.

"I'm happy for you to loan this to me, like the laptop." I whisper with a smile.

He sighs, "Okay. On loan. Indefinitely." he looks warily at me.

"No, not indefinitely, but for now. Thank you."

He frowns, and I quickly reach up and kiss him on the cheek, "Thank you for the car, sir." I say as sweetly as possible. He grabs me suddenly and yanks me up against him, one hand at my back hlding me in place, the other fisting in my hair.

"You are one challenging woman, Catherine Chandler." he kisses me passionately, forcing my lips apart with his tongue, taking no prisoners.

My blood heats immediately, and I'm returning his kiss with my own passion. I want him badly, in spite of the car, the books, the soft limits... the caning... _I want him!_

"It's taking all my self-control not to fuck you on the hood of this car right now, just to show you that you are mine, and if I want to buy you a fucking car, I'll but you a fucking car." he growls. "Now let's get you inside and naked." He plants a swift rough kiss on me. _Oh my! _

Boy he's angry. He grabs my hand and leads me back into the apartment and straight into my bedroom... no passing go.

My subconscious is behind the sofa again, head hidden under her hands. He switches on the sidelight and halts, staring at me.

"Please don't be angry with me." I whisper.

His gaze is impassive; his eyes cold shards of glass.

"I'm sorry about the car and the books..." I trail off. He remains silent and brooding, "You scare me when you're angry." I breathe, staring at him.

He closes his eyes and shakes his head. When he opens them, his expression has softened. He takes a deep breath and swallows.

"Turn around." he whispers, "I want to get you out of that dress."

Another mercurial mood-swing: _it's so hard to keep up._

* * *

><p>Obediently, I turn around and my heart is thumping, desire instantly replacing unease, coursing through my blood and settling dark and yearning, low, low in my belly. He scoops my hair off my back so it hangs down my right shoulder, curling at my breast. He places his index finger at the nape of my neck and achingly slow, drags it down my spine, his fingernail grazing my skin.<p>

"I like this dress." he whispers, "I like to see your flawless skin."

His finger reaches the back of my halter dress midway down my spine, and hooking his finger beneath the top, he pulls me closer so that I step back against him so that he's flush against my body. Leaning down, he inhales my hair.

"You smell so good, Catherine. So sweet." his nose skims past my ear down my neck, and he trails soft, featherlight kisses along my shoulder.

My breathing has increased, shallow even, rushed, full of expectation. His fingers are at my zipper. Achingly slow, once more he eases it down while his lips move, licking and kissing and sucking their way across to my other shoulder. He is so tantalizingly good at this. My body resonates, and I start to squirm beneath his touch.

"You. Are. Going. To. Have. To. Learn. To. Keep. Still." he whispers between kisses around my nape.

He tugs at the fastening at the halter neck, and the dress drops and pools at my feet.

"No bra, Miss Chandler. I like that." he whispers ever so seductively in my ear. I whisper a moan as my eyes roll to the back of my head. _How does this man effect me so? _He reaches around me and cups my breasts from behind me, and my nipples pucker at his touch.

"Lift your arms and put them around my head." he murmurs against my neck, causing me to tremor.

I do as I'm told and reach behind me, circling my arms around his neck, and my breasts rise and push into his hands, my nipples hardening further. My fingers weave into his hair, and very gently I tug his soft, sexy hair. I roll my head to one side to give him easier access to my neck.

"Mmm..." he groans into that space behind my ear as he starts to extend my nipples with his long fingers, mirroring my hands in his hair.

I moan as the sensation becomes unbearable, and registers sharp and clear in my groin.

"Shall I make you get off this way?" he whispers.

I arch my back to force my breasts into his expert hands. "You like this, don't you, Miss Chandler?"

"Mmm." I murmur.

"Tell me." he continues the slow, sensuous torture, pulling gently on my nipples as I tug at his hair.

"Yes."

"Yes what?" he whispers darkly.

"Yes...Sir." I moan.

"Good girl." he pinches me hard, and my body writhes convulsively against his front. I gasp at the exquisite, acute pleasure/pain. I feel him against me. I moan and my hands clench his hair pulling harder.

"I don't think you're ready to get off yet." he whispers, stilling his movements and he gently bites my earlobe and tugs it, "Besides, you have displeased me."

_Oh...no! What will this mean? _My brain registers through the fog of needy desire as I groan.

"So perhaps I won't let you get off after all." he returns the attention of his fingers to my nipples, pulling, twisting, kneading. I grind my behind against him... moving side to side.

I feel his grin against my neck as his hands move down to my hips. His fingers hook into my panties at the back, stretching them, and he pushes his thumbs through the material, shredding them and tossing them in front of me so I can see them... _holy shit!_

His hands move down to my sex, and from behind, he slowly inserts his index finger.

"Oh, Catherine. Always ready for me." he breathes as he whirls me around, facing him. His breathing has quickened. He puts his finger in his mouth, "You taste mighty fine, Miss Chandler." he sighs.

_Did he really just do that?! That was... HOT!_

"Undress me." he commands quietly, staring down at me, eyes hooded.

All I'm wearing at this point are my shoes... well, Tess' high-heeled pumps. I'm taken aback. I've never undressed a man before.

"You can do it." he cajoles softly.

I blink rapidly. _Where to start? _I reach for his T-shirt, and he grabs my wrists, smiling slyly at me, "Oh no..." he shakes his head, grinning, "Not the T-shirt. You may need to touch me for ehat I have planned." his eyes are alive with excitement.

_Oh... this is news...I can touch him with clothes on. _He takes one of my hands and places it against his erection, "This is the effect you have on me, Miss Chandler."

I gasp and flex my fingers around his girth, and he grins.

"I want to be inside you. Take my jeans off. You're in charge, Catherine."

_Holy fuck! Me in charge?! _My mouth drops open.

"What are you going to do with me?" he teases.

_Oh the possibilities... _my inner goddess roars, and from somewhere born of frustration, need, and sheer Chandler bravery, I push him back onto the bed. He laughs as he falls, and I gaze down at him, feeling victorious. My inner goddess is going to explode. I yank off his shoes, quickly, clumsily, and his socks. He's staring at me, his eyes luminous with amusement and desire. He looks... glorious... _mine!_

I crawl up the bed and sit astride him to undo his jeans, sliding my fingers under the waistband, feeling the hair of his oh-so-happy trail. He close his eyes and flexes his hips.

"You'll have to learn to keep still." I scold, and I tug at the hair of his happy trail. His breath hitches, and he grins at me, "Yes, Miss Chandler." he murmurs, eyes burning bright with desire. "In my pocket, condom." he breathes.

I search in his pocket slowly, watching his face as I feel around. His mouth is open slightly. I fish out both foil packets that I find and lay them on the bed by his hips. _Two! _My over-eager fingers reach for the button of his waistband and undo it, fumbling a little. I am beyond excited. All nervousness has vanished.

"So eager, Miss Chandler." he mutters, his voice laced with humor. I tug down the zipper, and now I'm faced with the problem of removing his pants... _hmm. _I shuffle down and pull. They hardly move. I frown. _How can this __be so difficult?_

"I can't keep still if you're going to bite that lip." he warns, then arches his pelvis up off the bed so I'm able to tug down his jeans and his boxers at the same time, _whoa... _freeing him. He kicks his clothes to the floor.

_Holy Moses! He's all mine to play with! _And suddenly, it feels like Christmas.

"Now what are you going to do?" he breathes, all trace of humor gone. I reach up and touch him, watching his expression as I do. His mouth shapes an O as he takes a sharp breath. His skin is so smooth and velvety... and hard..._hmm,_ what a delicious combination. I lean forward, my hair falling around me, and he's in my mouth. I suck, hard. No holds barred. He close his eyes, his hips jerking beneath me.

"Jeez, Catherine. Steady." he groans.

I feel so powerful; it's such an exhilarating feeling, teasing and testing him with my mouth and tongue. He tenses underneath me as I run my mouth up and down him, pushing him to the back of my throat, my lips tight... again and again.

"Stop, Catherine, stop. I don't want to get off yet." he pleads in groans.

I sit up, blinking at him, and I'm panting like him, but confused. _I thought I was in charge? _My inner goddess looks like someone snatched her ice cream.

"Your innocence and enthusiasm is very disarming." he gasps, closing his eyes. He reopens them and my heart slams into my throat, his eyes even darker with desire, "You, on top... that's what we need to do."

_Oh._

"Here, put this on." he hands me a foil packet.

_Holy crap! How?! _I rip the packet open, and the rubbery condom is all tacky in my fingers.

"Pinch the top and then roll it down. You don't want any air in the end of that sucker." he pants.

And very slowly, concentrating hard, I do as I'm told.

"Christ, you're killing me here, Catherine." he groans.

I admire my handiwork and him. He really is a fine specimen of a man. Looking at him is very, _very_ arousing.

"Now, I want to be buried inside you." he murmurs. I stare down at him, daunted, and he sits up suddenly, so we're nose to nose.

"Like this." he breathes, and he snakes one hand around my hips, lifting me, and with the other he positions himself beneath me. Very slowly, he eases me onto him.

I gasp a groan as he stretches me open, filling me, my mouth hanging open in surprise at the sweet, sublime, agonizing, over-full feeling. _Oh, Vincent... please!_

"That's right, baby. Feel me... all of me." he growls, and briefly closes his eyes.

And he's inside me, sheathed to the hilt, and he holds me in place, for seconds... minutes... I have no idea, staring intently into my eyes.

"It's deep this way." he murmurs. He flexes and swivels his hips throughout my belly... everywhere. _Oh Fuck!_

"Again." I whisper. He grins a lazy grin and obliges.

Moaning I throw my head up, my hair tumbling down my back, and very slowly, he sinks down on to the bed.

"You move, Catherine. Up and down, how you want. Take my hands." he breathes, his voice hoarse and low and oh-so-sexy.

I clasp his hands, and he webs our fingers together. Gently, I push off him and back down. His eyes are burning with wild anticipation. His breathing is ragged, matching mine, and he lifts his pelvis as I come down, bouncing me back up. We pick up the rhythm... up, down, up, down... over and over... and it feels so... _good!_

Between my panting breaths, the deep down, brimming fullness... the vehement sensation pulsing through me that's building quickly, I watch him, our eyes locked... and I see wonder there, wonder at me.

I am fucking this man, fully in charge. He's mine, and I'm his. The thought pushes me, weighted with concrete, over the edge, and I climax around him... shouting incoherently. He grabs my hips, and closing his eyes, tipping his head back, his jaw strained, he get s off quietly. I collapse on to his chest, overwhelmed.

In this moment I realize that I am somewhere between fantasy and reality, a place where there are no hard or soft limits... _I think I made sweet, passionate love to this man... and he let me._

* * *

><p><em><strong>**O.O Okay, I totally died in this chapter. DENISE WHERE ARE YOU?! I NEED THE OXYGEN MASK! Ashjkf! Lol. Anyways, let me know what ya think.**<strong>_


	16. Chapter 16

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*WARNING:<strong>** The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, ****graphic sexual content, and DOM/SUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*Extra:<strong>** I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: I am so pleased with the reviews! Keep them coming!)**

_Italics represent Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 16-<strong>_

Slowly the outside world invades my senses, and oh my, what an invasion. I'm floating, my limbs soft and languid, utterly spent. I'm lying on top of him, my head on his chest, and he smells divine: freshly laundered linen and some expensive body wash, and of course the best of them all, the most seductive scent in the entire world... Vincent.

I don't want to move, I want to just lay here, breathing this delicious elixir for eternity. I nuzzle him, wishing I didn't have the barrier of his T-shirt. And as rhyme and reason return to the rest of my body, I stretch my hand out on his chest. This is the first time I've touched him here. He's firm... strong. His hand suddenly swoops up and grabs mine, but he softens the blow by pulling it to his mouth and sweetly kissing my knuckles. He rolls over so he's gazing down at me, "Don't." he murmurs, then kisses me lightly.

"Why don't you like to be touched?" I whisper, staring up into his brown eyes.

"Because I'm fifty shades of fucked up, Catherine."

_Oh... _His honesty is completely disarming. I blink up at him.

"I had a very tough introduction to life. I don't want to burden you with the details. Just don't." He strokes his nose against mine, and then he pulls out of me and sits up.

"I think that's all the very basics covered. How was that?" He looks thoroughly pleased with himself and sounds very matter-of-factly at the same time, like he's just marked off another item on a checklist. I'm still reeling from the 'tough introduction to life' comment. It's so frustrating... I am desperate to know more about him and how he became fifty shades. But I know he won't tell me.

I cock my head to one side, like he does, and make an enormous effort to smile at him, "If you imagine for one minute that I think you ceded control to me, well you haven't taken into account my GPA." I smile shyly at him, "But thank you for the illusion."

"Miss Chandler, you are not just a pretty face. You've had six orgasms so far and all of them belong to me." he boasts, playful again.

I flush and blink at the same time as he stares down at me. _He's keeping count! _His brow furrows.

"Do you have something to tell me?" his voice is suddenly stern.

I frown. _Crap!_

"I had a dream this morning." I whisper.

"Oh?" he glares at me.

_Double crap! Am I in trouble?_

"I uhm... I got off in my sleep." I throw my arm over my eyes in embarrassment. He says nothing. I peek up at him from under my arm, and he looks amused.

"In your sleep?" he asks.

"Woke me up."

"I'm sure it did. What were you dreaming about?"

_Crap!_

"You."

"What was I doing?"

I throw my arm over my eyes again. And like a small child, I briefly entertain the thought that if I can't see him, then he can't see me.

"Catherine, what was I doing? I won't ask you again."

"You had a riding crop." I whisper, still hiding under my arm.

He moves my arm, gazing at me.

"Really?" he says. _He seems shocked!_

"Yes." I'm officially crimson.

"There's hope for you yet." he murmurs, "I have several riding crops." he smiles.

"Brown plaited leather?"

He laughs, "No, but I'm sure I could get one."

Leaning down, he gives me a brief kiss, then stands and grabs his boxers. _Oh no... he's going. _

I glance quickly at the time, it's only nine forty. I scoot out of bed too, and grab my sweatpants and a cami top, then sit back on the bed, cross-legged, watching him. I don't want him to go. _What can I do?_

"When is your period due?" he interrupts my thoughts.

_Is he serious right now?! WTF!_

"I hate wearing these things." he adds in a grumble. He holds up the condom then tosses it in the waist basket next to my bed and slips on his jeans.

"Well?" he prompts when I don't reply, and he looks at me expectantly as if he's waiting for my opinion on the weather. _Holy crap... this is personal stuff!_

"Next week." I stare down at my hands.

"You need to sort out some contraception."

He is so bossy. I stare at him blankly. He sits back on the bed as he puts on his socks and shoes.

"Do you have a doctor?" he asks.

I shake my head. We are back to mergers and acquisitions... another 180-degree mood swing.

He frowns, "I can have mine come and see you at your apartment, Sunday morning before you come see me. Or he can see you at my place. Which would you prefer?"

_No pressure then. _Something else that he's paying for... but actually this is for his benefit.

"Your place." That means I am guaranteed to see him Sunday.

"Okay. I'll let you know the time."

"Are you leaving?" I murmur, glaring at him.

_Don't go... stay with me, please!_

"Yes."

_Why?_

"How are you getting back?" I whisper.

"Sam will pick me up."

"I can drive you. I have a _lovely_ new car."

He gazes at me, his expression warm, "That's more like it. But I think you've had too much to drink."

"Did you get me tipsy on purpose?"

"Yes."

_Asshole! I knew it!_

"Why?"

"Because, you over-think everything, and you're reticent like your stepdad. A drop of wine in you and you start talking, and I need you to communicate honestly with me. Otherwise you clam up and I have no idea what you're thinking. In vino veritas, Catherine."

"And you think you're always honest with me?" I snap.

"I endeavor to be." he looks down at me warily, "This will only work if we're honest with each other."

"I'd like you to stay and use this." I hold up the second condom.

He smiles and his eyes glow with humor, "Catherine, I have crossed so many lines here tonight. I have to go. I'll see you on Sunday. I'll have the revised contract ready for you, and then we can really start to play."

"Play?" _Holy shit. _My heart leaps into my mouth."I'd like to do a scene with you. But I won't until you've signed, so I know you're ready."

"Oh. So I could stretch this out if I don't sign?" _This could be fun._

He gazes at me assessing, and then his lips twitch into a smile, "Well, I suppose you could, but I may crack under the strain."

"Crack? How?" My inner goddess has woken and is paying attention.

He nods slowly, and then he grins, teasing, "Could get really ugly." His grin is infectious.

"Ugly, how?"

"Oh you know, explosions, car chases, kidnapping, incarceration."

"You'd kidnap me?"

"Oh yes." he grins.

"Hold me against my will?" _Jeez, this is hot!_

"Oh yes." he nods, "And then we're talking TPE 24/7."

"You've lost me." I breathe, my heart is pounding... _is he serious?_

"Total Power Exchange. Around the clock." His eyes are shining and his excitement is palpable even from where I sit.

_Fuck!_

"So you have no choice." he says sardonically.

"Clearly." I can't keep the sarcasm out of my voice as my eyes reach for the heavens.

"Oh, Catherine... did you just roll your eyes at me?"

_Oops... Shit!_

"No." I squeak.

"I think you did. What did I say I'd do to you if you rolled your eyes at me again?"

_Shit! Shit! Shit! _He sits down on the edge of the bed.

"Come here." he says softly.

I blanch. _Jeez... he's serious! _I sit staring at him, completely immobile.

"I haven't signed." I whisper.

"I told you what I'd do. I'm a man of my word. I'm going to spank you, and then I'm going to fuck you very quick and very hard. Looks like we'll need that condom after all."

His voice is so soft, menacing, and...and... _it's damned hot! _My insides practically contort with potent, needy, liquid, desire. He gazes at me, waiting, eyes blazing. Tentatively, I uncurl my legs. _Should I run? _This is it; our relationship hangs in the balance, right here, right now. Do I let him do this or do I say no, and then that's it? Because I know it will be over if I say no. _Do it! _My inner goddess pleads with me. My subconscious is as paralyzed as I am.

"I'm waiting." he says, "I'm not a patient man."

_Oh, for the love of all that's holy! _I'm panting, afraid, turned on. Blood pounding through my body, my legs like jelly. Slowly, I crawl over to him until I am beside him.

"Good girl." he murmurs, "Now stand up."

_Jesus! Can't he just get this over with? _I'm not sure if I can stand. Hesitantly, I clamber to me feet. He holds out his hand, and I place the condom in his palm. He stands and grabs the ottoman and places it in front of him at the foot of my bed. I bite my lip.

He sits down, clasping my hand, and he pulls me in front of him. He twirls me around, facing me towards the ottoman, and he hooks his fingers in the waistband of my sweats, pulling them down slowly until I'm bare.

"Bend over and place your hands on the ottoman." he whispers, stroking my behind. I hesitate, not knowing how this will go. Part of me is terrified, the other is completely aroused.

"Now." he demands. I swallow hard as I do as I'm told. I bend over, and instantly I feel so exposed to him. It's demeaning and scary and hot all at the same time.

He stands, trailing a hand up my spine, to the nape of my neck and he grasps me on the back of my neck to hold me in place. _Oh fuck! I don't know if I can do this!_

"Why am I doing this, Catherine?" he asks.

"Because I rolled my eyes at you." I can barely speak.

"Do you think that's polite?"

"No."

"Are you going to do it again?"

"No."

"I will spank you each time you do it, understand?" he whispers, stroking my behind with his free hand.

I swear he's making such a meal of this. My heart is in my mouth. I can barely breathe. _Shit, is this going to hurt?_

He continues to fondle my behind and I can't help but want him right now. I close my eyes to his sensual touch. Suddenly, his hand is no longer there... and he hits me... hard. _Ow! _My eyes spring open in response to the pain. He caresses me again where he's hit me, and his breathing's changed. It's louder, harsher. He hits me again and again, quickly in succession. _Holy fuck, it hurts! _I make no sound, just breathing hard, my face screwed up against the pain. I try to wriggle away from the blows, spurred on by adrenaline spiking and coursing through my body.

"Keep still," he growls, "or I'll spank you for longer."

He's rubbing me now, and the blow follows soon after. A rhythmic pattern emerges: caress, fondle, slap. I have to concentrate to handle this pain.

"Aargh!" I cry out on the tenth slap, and I'm unaware that I have been mentally counting the blows.

"I'm just getting warmed up." he whispers as he caresses my behind. He hits me again, the he strokes me softly. The combination of the hard stinging blow and his gentle caress is so mind-numbing. He hits me again... _This is getting harder to take. _

My face hurts, it's still screwed up so tight. He strokes me gently and then the blow comes again. I cry out in a combination of pain/pleasure.

"No one can hear you, baby, just me." he whispers. And he hits me again.

From somewhere deep inside, I want to beg him to stop. But I don't... I don't want to give him the satisfaction. He continues his unrelenting rhythm. I cry out six more times. Eighteen slaps in total. My body is singing, singing from his merciless assault.

"Enough." he breathes hoarsely. "Well done, Catherine."

I pant as he strokes me around and around and down. Suddenly, he inserts two fingers inside me, taking me by surprise. I gasp, this new assault breaking through the numbness around my brain.

"Feel this? See how much your body likes this, Catherine? You're soaking just for me." There is awe in his voice. He moves his fingers in and out in quick succession.

I moan. _NO! Surely not! _And then his fingers are gone... and I'm left wanting more.

"Next time I will have you count. Now where's that condom?"

He reaches behind him for the condom, "On your knees." he says in his seductive tone that I find irresistible. I do as I'm told, and kneel down in front of him, face down on the ottoman. My breathing has increased again, and I feel the anxiety that consumes me with need. I hear the sound of his zipper and nearly smile as I know what's coming next.

"I'm going to take you now. You can get off." he murmurs.

_What?_

And suddenly, he's inside me, quickly filling me. I moan loudly. He moves, pounding into me, a fast, intense pace against my sore behind. The feeling is beyond exquisite, raw and debasing and mind-blowing. My senses are ravaged, disconnected, solely concentrating on what he's doing to me. How he's making me feel that familiar pull deep in my belly, tightening, quickening. _NO... _And my traitorous body explodes in an intense, body-shattering orgasm.

"Oh, Catherine!" he cries out loudly as he finds his release, holding me in place as he pours into me. He collapses, panting hard beside me, and he pulls me on top of him and buries his face in my hair, holding me close.

"Oh, baby, welcome to my world."

We lie there, panting together, waiting for our breathing to slow. He gently strokes me hair. I'm on his chest again. But this time, I don't have the strength to lift a hand to and feel him. _Boy... I survived. _That wasn't so bad. I'm more stoic than I thought. My inner goddess is prostrate... well, at least she's quiet. Vincent nuzzles my hair again, inhaling deeply.

"Well done, Catherine." he whispers, quiet joy in his voice. His words curl around me like a soft, fluffy towel from the Heathman Hotel, and I'm so pleased that he's happy.

He picks at the strap of my camisole, "Is this what you sleep in?" he asks gently.

"Yes." I breathe sleepily.

"You should be in silks and satins, you beautiful girl. I'll take you shopping."

"I like my sweats." I murmur, trying and failing to sound irritated.

He kisses my head again, "We'll see." he says.

We lie for a few more minutes, hours, who the hell knows, and I think I doze.

"I have to go." he says, and leaning down, he kisses my forehead gently, "Are you okay?" His voice is soft.

I think about that question. My ass is sore. Well, glowing now, and amazingly I feel, apart from exhausted, radiant. The realization is humbling, unexpected. I don't understand.

"I'm fine." I whisper. I don't want to say more than that.

He rises. "Where's your bathroom?"

"Down the hall to the left."

He tosses the other condom into the waist basket and heads down the hall to the bathroom. I rise stiffly and put my sweatpants back on. They chafe a little against my still-smarting behind. I'm so confused by my reaction. I remember him saying, I can't remember when, that I would feel so much better after a good hiding. _How can that be so? _I really don't get it. But strangely, I do. I can't say that I enjoyed the experience. In fact, I would still go a long way to avoid it, but now... I have this safe, weird, bathed in afterglow, sated feeling. I put my head in my hands. I just don't understand.

Vincent reenters the room. I can't look him in the eye. I stare down at my hands.

"I found some baby oil. Let me rub it into your behind."

_What?_

"No, I'll be fine."

"Catherine." he warns, and I want to roll my eyes but quickly stop myself. I stand facing the bed. Sitting beside me, he gently pulls my sweatpants down again. _Up and down like whores' drawers, _my subconscious remarks bitterly. In my head, I tell her where to go. Vincent squirts baby oil into his hand and then rubs my behind with careful tenderness. From make-up remover, to soothing balm for a spanked ass, who would have thought it was such a versatile liquid.

"I like my hands on you." he murmurs, and I have to agree. _Me too, Vincent._

"There." he says when he's finished, and he pulls my pants up again.

I glance over at my clock. It's ten thirty.

"I'm leaving now." he whispers.

"I'll see you out." I still can't look at him.

Taking my hand, he leads me to the front door. Fortunately, Tess is still not home. She must still be having dinner with her folks and Tim. I'm really glad she's not been around to hear my chastisement.

"Don't you have to call Sam?" I ask, avoiding eye contact.

"Sam's been here since nine. Look at me." he breathes.

I struggle to meet his eyes, but when I do, he's gazing down at me with wonder.

"You didn't cry." he murmurs, then grabs me suddenly and kisses me fervently. "Sunday." he whispers against my lips, and it's both a promise and a threat. I watch him walk down the path and climb into the big black Audi. He doesn't look back.

* * *

><p>I close the door and stand helpless in the living room of an apartment that I shall only spend another two nights in. A place I have lived happily for almost four years... yet today, for the first time ever, I feel lonely and uncomfortable here, unhappy with my own company. <em>Have I strayed so far from who I am?<em> I know that lurking, not very far under my rather numb exterior, is a well of tears. _What am I doing? _The irony is I can't even sit down and enjoy a good cry. I'll have to stand. I know it's late, but I decide to call mom.

"Honey, how are you? How was graduation?" she enthuses down the phone. Her voice is a soothing balm.

"Sorry it's so late." I whisper.

She pauses.

"Cat? What's wrong?" She's all seriousness now.

"Nothing, Mom. I just wanted to hear your voice."

She's silent for a moment.

"Cat, what is it? Please tell me." Her voice is soft and comforting, and I know that she cares. Uninvited, my tears begin to flow. I have cried so often in the last few days.

"Please, Catherine." she says, and her anguish reflects mine.

"Oh, Mom, it's a guy." I admit, well, sort of.

"What's he done to you?" Her alarm is palpable.

"It's not like that." _Although, it is..._

_Oh, crap! I don't want to worry her. _I just want someone else to be strong for me at the moment.

"Cat, please. You're worrying me."

I take a deep breath, "I've kind of fallen for this guy, and he's so different from me, and I don't know if we should be together."

"Oh, darling. I wish I could be with you. I'm so sorry I missed your graduation. You've fallen for someone, finally. Oh honey, men, they are tricky. They're a different species, honey. How long have you known him?"

Vincent is definitely a different species... _different planet!_

"Oh, nearly three weeks or so." I whisper.

"Catherine, darling, that's no time at all. How can you possibly know someone in that kind of time frame? Just take it easy with him and keep him at arms length until you decide whether he's worthy of you, or not."

_Wow... it's unnerving when my mother is so insightful. _But she's just too late on this. Is he _worthy _of me? That's an interesting concept. I always wonder whether _I _am worthy of _him_.

"Honey, you sound so unhappy. Come home... visit with us. I miss you, darling. Bob would love to see you, too. You can get some distance and maybe some perspective. You need a break. You've been working so hard."

_Oh boy, is this tempting. _Run away to Georgia. Grab some sunshine, some cocktails. My mother's good humor... her loving arms.

"I have two job interviews in Seattle on Monday."

"Oh, that's wonderful news."

* * *

><p>The door opens and Tess appears, grinning at me. Her face falls when she sees I've been crying.<p>

"Mom, I have to go. I'll think about visiting. Thank you."

"Honey, please, don't let a man get under your skin. You're far too young. Go and enjoy yourself."

"Yes, Mom. I love you."

"Oh, Cat. I love you too, so much. Stay safe, honey." I hang up and face Tess, who glares at me.

"Has that obscenely rich fucker upset you again?"

"No...sort of...er...yes." I fumble.

"Just tell him to take a hike, Cat. You've been so up and down since you met him. I've never seen you like this."

The world of Tess Vargas is very clear, very black and white. Not the intangible, mysterious, vague hues of brown that color my world. _Welcome to my world._

"Sit, let's talk. Let's have some wine. Oh, you've had champagne." She spies the bottle. "Some good stuff too."

I smile ineffectually, looking apprehensively at the couch. I approach it with caution. _Hmm... sitting._

"Are you okay?" she asks.

"I fell over and landed on my ass." I lie.

She doesn't think to question my explanation, because I am one of the most uncoordinated people in Washington State. I never thought I'd see that as a blessing. I sit down gingerly, pleasantly surprised that I'm okay, and turn my attention to Tess, but my mind glazes over I'm pulled back to the Heathman.

_Well, if you were mine you wouldn't be able to sit down for a week after the stunt you pulled yesterday. _He said it then, and all I could concentrate on at the time was being his. All the warning signs were there, I was just too clueless and too enamored to notice.

Tess comes back into the living area with a bottle of red wine and washed teacups.

"Here we go." she hands me a cup of wine. It won't taste as good as the Bolly.

"Cat, if he's a jerk with commitment issues, dump him. Though I don't really understand his commitment issues. He couldn't take his eyes off you in the marquee, watched you like a hawk. I'd say he was completely smitten, but maybe he has a funny way of showing it."

_Smitten? Vincent? Funny way of showing it? _I'll say.

"Tess, it's complicated. How was your evening?" I ask.

I can't talk this through with Tess without revealing too much, but one question on her day and Tess is off. It's reassuring to sit and listen to her normal chatter. The hot news is that Tim may be coming to live with us after their vacation. That will be fun. Tim is a hoot. I frown. I don't think Vincent will approve.

_Well... tough fucking titty! _He'll just have to suck it up.

* * *

><p>I have a couple of teacups of wine and decide to call it a night. It's been one very long day. Tess hugs me, and then grabs the phone to call JT. I check the mean machine after I brush my teeth. There's an e-mail from Vincent.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** You

**Date:** May 26 2011 23:14

**To:** Catherine Chandler

Dear Miss Chandler,

You are quite simply exquisite. The most beautiful, intelligent, witty, and brave woman I have ever met. Take some Advil–this is not a request. And don't drive your Beetle again. I will know.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><em>Oh, not drive my car again!<em> I type out my reply.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Flattery

**Date:** May 26 2011 23:20

**To:** Vincent Keller

Dear Mr. Keller,

Flattery will get you nowhere, but since you've been _everywhere _the point is moot.

I will need to drive my Beetle to a garage so I can sell it—so will not graciously accept any of your nonsense over that.

Red wine is always more preferable to Advil.

Catherine

P.S.: Caning is a HARD limit for me.

* * *

><p>I hit send.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject: **Frustrating Women Who Can't Take Compliments

**Date:** May 26 2011 23:26

**To: **Catherine Chandler

Dear Miss Chandler,

I am not flattering you. You should go to bed.

I accept your addition to the hard limits.

Don't drink too much.

Sam will dispose of your car and get a good price for it too.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Sam—Is He the Right Man for the Job?

**Date: **May 26 2011 23:40

**To:** Vincent Keller

Dear Sir,

I am intrigued that you are happy to risk letting your right-hand man drive my car but not some woman you fuck occasionally. How can I be sure that Sam is the man to get me the best deal for said car? I have, in the past, probably before I met you, been known to drive a hard bargain.

Cat

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Careful!

**Date: **May 26 2011 23:44

**To: **Catherine Chandler

Dear Miss Chandler,

I am assuming it is the RED WINE talking, and the you've had a very long day.

Though I am tempted to drive back over there to ensure that you don't sit down for a week, rather than an evening.

Sam is ex-army and capable of driving anything from a motorcycle to a Sherman tank. Your car does not present a hazard to him.

Now please do not refer to yourself as "som woman I fuck occasionally" because, quite frankly, it makes me MAD, and you really wouldn't like me when I'm angry.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Careful Yourself

**Date:** May 26 2011 23:57

**To: **Vincent Keller

Dear Mr. Keller,

I'm not sure I like you anyway, especially at the moment.

Miss Chandler

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject: **Careful Yourself

**Date: **May 26 2011 00:03

**To: **Catherine Chandler

Why don't you like me?

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Careful Yourself

**Date:** May 26 2011 00:09

**To: **Vincent Keller

Because you never stay with me.

* * *

><p>There, that's giving him something to think about. I shut the machine down with a flourish I don't really feel and crawl into my bed. I switch off the sidelight and stare up at the ceiling. It's been one long day, one emotional wrench after another. It was heart-warming to spend some time with Thomas. He looked well, and weirdly, he approved of Vincent Keller. <em>Jeez, Tess and her big fat mouth! <em>Hearing Vincent speak about being hungry. _What the hell is that all about? _God, and the car. I haven't even told Tess about the new car. _What was Vincent thinking? _

And then this evening, he actually hit me. I've never been hit in my life. _What have I gotten myself into? _Very slowly, my tears, halted by Tess' arrival, begin to slide down the side of my face and into my ears. I have fallen for one of the most complicated guys in the universe; who's emotionally shut down. I will only get hurt—deep down I know this—someone who by his own admission is completely fucked up. _Why _is he so fucked up? It must be awful to be as affected as he is, and the thought that as a toddler he suffered some unbearable cruelty makes me cry even harder. _Perhaps if he was more normal he wouldn't want you, _mu subconscious contributes snidely to my musings... and in my heart of hearts I know this is true.

* * *

><p>I turn into my pillow and the sluice gates open... and for the first time in years, I am sobbing uncontrollably into my pillow. I'm momentarily distracted from my dark night of the soul by Tess shouting...<p>

"_What the fuck so you think you're doing here?"..._"_Well, you can't!"..._"_What the fuck have you done to her now?"..._"_Since she's met you she cries all the time."..._"_You can't come in here!"_

Vincent bursts into my bedroom and unceremoniously switches on the overhead light, making me squint.

"Jesus, Catherine." he mutters. He flicks the switch on again and is at my side in a moment.

"What are you doing here?" I gasp between sobs. _Crap! I can't stop crying..._

He switches on the sidelight, making me squint again. Tess comes and stands in the doorway, "Do you want me to throw this asshole out?" she asks, radiating thermonuclear hostility.

Vincent raise his eyebrows at her, no doubt surprised by her flattering epithet and her feral antagonism. I shake my head, and she rolls her eyes at me. _Oh... I wouldn't do that near Mr. K._

"Just holler if you need me." she says more gently. "Keller—you're on my shit list and I'm watching you." she hisses at him. He blinks at her, and she turns and pulls the door closed but doesn't shut it.

Vincent gazes down at me, his expression grave, his face ashen. He's wearing his pin-stripped jacket, and from his inside pocket he pulls out a handkerchief and hands it to me. I think I still have his other one somewhere.

"What's going on?" he asks quietly.

"Why are you here?" I ask, ignoring his question. My tears have miraculously stopped, but I'm left with dry heaves racking my body.

"Part of my role is to look after your needs. You said you wanted me to stay, so here I am. And yet I find you like this." he blinks at me, truly bewildered. "I'm sure I'm responsible, but I have no idea why. Is it because I hit you?"

I pull myself up, wincing from my sore behind. I sit and face him.

"Did you take some Advil?"

I shake my head. He narrows his eyes, stands, and leaves the room. I hear him talking to Tess but not what they are saying. He's back a few moments later with pills and a teacup of water.

"Take these." he orders gently as he sits on my bed beside me. I do as I'm told.

"Talk to me." he whispers. "You told me you were okay. I'd never have left you if I thought you were like this."

I stare down at my hands._ What can I say that I haven't already? I want more. _I want him to stay because_ he_ wants to stay with me, not because I'm a blubbering mess, and I don't want him to hit me, is that so unreasonable?

"I take it that when you said you were okay, you weren't"

I flush, "I thought I was fine."

"Catherine, you can't tell me what you_ think_ I want to hear. That's not very honest." he admonishes me. "How can I trust anything you've said to me?"

I peek up at him, and he's frowning, a bleak look in his eyes. He runs both hands through his hair.

"How did you feel while I was hitting you and after?" he asks.

"I didn't like it, and I'd rather you didn't do it again." I hiss.

"You weren't meant to like it."

"Why do_ you_ like it?" I snap, staring up at him.

My question surprises him.

"You really want to know?"

"Oh, trust me, I'm fascinated." And I can't quite keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

He narrows his eyes again, "Careful." he warns.

I blanch. "Are you going to hit me again?"

"No, not tonight."

_Phew! _My subconscious and I both breathe a silent sigh of relief.

"So." I prompt.

"I like the control it gives me, Catherine. I want you to behave in a particular way, and if you don't, I shall punish you, and you will learn to behave the way I desire. I enjoy punishing you. I've wanted to spank you since you asked me if I was gay."

I flush at the memory. _Jeez, I wanted to spank myself after that question. _So Tess Vargas is responsible for all this, and if she'd gone to that interview and asked her gay question, she'd be sitting here with the sore ass. I don't like that thought. _How confusing is this?_

"So you don't like the way I am?" I ask.

He stares at me, bewildered again, "I think you're lovely the way you are."

"So why are you trying to change me?"

"I don't want to change you. I'd like you to be courteous and to follow the set of rules I've given you and not defy me. Simple." he says.

"But you want to punish me?"

"Yes, I do."

"That's what I don't understand."

He sighs ad runs his hands through his hair again.

"It's the way I'm made, Catherine. I need to control you. I need you to behave in a certain way, and if you don't—I love to watch your beautiful alabaster skin pink and warm up under my hands. It turns me on."

_Holy shit! Now we're getting somewhere..._

"So it's not the pain you're putting me through?"

He swallows.

"A bit, to see if you can take it, but that's not the whole reason. It's the fact that you are mine to do with as I see fit—ultimate control over someone else. And it turns me on. Big time, Catherine." he swallows hard, and sighs, "Look, I'm not explaining myself very well... I've never had to before. I've not really thought about this in any great depth. I've always been with like-minded people." he shrugs apologetically. "And you still answer my question—how did you feel afterward?"

"Confused." I whisper.

"You were sexually aroused by it, Catherine." he closes his eyes briefly, and when he reopens them and gazes at me, they are blazing.

His expression pulls at that dark part of me, buried in the depths of my belly—my libido, woken and tamed by him but, even now, insatiable.

"Don't look at me like that." he murmurs.

I frown. _Jeez, what have I done now?_

"I don't have a condom, Catherine, and you know, you're upset. Contrary to what your roommate believes, I'm not a priapic monster. So, you felt confused?"

I squirm under his intense gaze.

"You have no problem being honest with me in print. Your e-mails always tell me exactly how you feel. Why can't you do that in conversation? Do I intimidate you that much?"

I pick at an imaginary spot on my mother's blue-and-cream quilt.

"You beguile me, Vincent. Completely overwhelm me. I feel like Icarus flying too close to the sun." I whisper.

He gasps. "Well, I think you have got that the wrong way around." he whispers.

"What?" I'm shocked. _Did I hear him correctly?_

"Oh, Catherine, you've bewitched me. Isn't it obvious?"

_No, not to me._

_Bewitched... _my inner goddess is staring open-mouthed. Even she doesn't believe this.

"You've still not answered my question. Write me an e-mail, please. But right now, I'd really like to sleep. Can I stay?"

"Do_ you_ want to stay?" I can't hide the hope in my voice.

"You wanted me here."

"You haven't answered _my_ question."

"I'll write you an e-mail." he mutters petulantly.

Standing, he empties his jeans pockets of BlackBerry, keys, wallet, and money. _Jesus! Men carry a lot of crap in their pockets. _He strips off his watch, shoes, socks, and jeans and places his jacket over my chair. He walks around to the other side of the bed and slides in.

"Lie down." he orders softly.

I slip slowly under the covers, wincing, staring at him... _Jeez... he's staying! _I think I'm numb with elated shock. He leans up on one elbow, staring down at me.

"If you're going to cry, cry in front of me. I need to know."

"Do you want me to cry?"

"Not particularly. I just want to know how you're feeling. I don't want you slipping through my fingers. Switch the light off. It's late, and we both have to work tomorrow."

_So here... and still so bossy. _But I can't complain; he's in my bed. I don't quite understand why... maybe I should weep more often in front of him. I switch off the bedside light.

"Lie on your side, facing away from me." he murmurs in the darkness.

I roll my eyes in the full knowledge that he can't see me, but I do as I'm told. Gingerly, he moves over and puts his arms around me and pulls me to his chest.

"Sleep, Catherine." he whispers, and I feel his nose in my hair as he inhales deeply.

_Holy cow, Vincent Keller is sleeping with me. _And in the comfort and solace of his arms, I drift into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

><p><em><strong>**I know that chapter may have been hard to read. I changed that whole spanking scene from the book cause the book was even harder to read, even for myself lol. But the concept stayed the same way. I hope you all don't hate me after this. Everything that happens, happens for a reason. So just bare with me lol. Thanks again for your reviews!**<strong>_


	17. Chapter 17

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*WARNING:<strong>** The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, ****graphic sexual content, and DOM/SUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*Extra:<strong>** I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: So we got through one harsh part. YAY! I promise things will get better. JUST READ BETWEEN THE LINES for hints as to where this story is going. There will be a HEA I promise! But it will take a while to get there. Just please be patient with me darling! XOXO! Anyways, heres the next chapter!)**

_Italics represent Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 17-<strong>_

The candle flame is too hot hot. It flickers and dances in the over-warm breeze, a breeze that brings no respite from the sprinkling dusty scales in the circle of light. I'm struggling to resist, but I'm drawn. And then it's so bright, and I am flying too close to the sun, dazzled by the light, fried and melting from the heat, weary in my endeavors to stay airborne. I'm so warm. The heat... it's stifling, overpowering. It wakes me...

I open my eyes, and I'm draped in Vincent Keller. He's wrapped around me like a victory flag. He's asleep with his head on my chest, his arm over me, holding me close. One of his legs thrown over and hooked around both of mine. He's suffocating me with his body heat, and he's heavy. I take a moment to absorb that he's still in my bed and still asleep, and it's light outside—morning. He has spent the entire night with me.

My right arm is stretched, no doubt in search of a cool spot, and as I process the fact that he's still with me, the thought occurs that I can touch him. He's asleep. Tentatively, I lift my hand and run the tips of my fingers down his back. Deep in his throat, I hear a faint, distressed groan, and he stirs. He nuzzles my chest, inhaling deeply as he wakes. Sleepy, blinking brown eyes meet mine beneath his tousled mop of hair.

"Good morning." he mumbles, and frowns, "Jesus, even in my sleep I'm drawn to you." He moves slowly, un-peeling his limbs from my body as he gets his bearings. I become aware of his erection against my hip. He notices my wide-eyed reaction, and he smiles a slow, sexy smile.

"Hmm... this has possibilities, but I think we should wait until Sunday." He leans down and nuzzles my ear with his nose.

I flush, but then I feel seven shades of scarlet from his heat.

"You're very hot." I murmur.

"You're not so bad yourself." he grins, and presses himself against me, suggestively.

I flush. _That's not what I meant... _He props himself up on his elbow, gazing down at me, amused. He bends and—to my surprise—plants a gentle kiss on my lips.

"Sleep well?" he asks.

I nod, staring up at him, and I realize that I've slept _very _well except maybe for the last half hour when I was too hot.

"So did I." He frowns. "Yes, really well." He raises his eyebrows in confused surprise, "What time is it?" he asks.

I glance at my alarm clock, "It's seven thirty."

"Seven thirty... shit!" He scrambles out of bed and drags on his jeans.

It is my turn to look amused as I sit up on my elbow. Vincent Keller is late and flustered. This is something I have never seen before. I belatedly realize that my behind is no longer sore.

"You are such a bad influence on me. I have a meeting. I have to go—I have to be in Portland at eight." he takes a deep breath as I smirk a smile at him, "Are you smirking at me?"

"Yes." I murmur with a smile.

He grins. "I'm late. I don't _do _late. Another first, Miss Chandler."

He pulls on his jacket and then bends down and grasps my head, his hands on either side, "Sunday." he whispers, and then the word is pregnant with an unspoken promise. Everything deep in my body uncurls and then clenches in delicious anticipation. The feeling is exquisite.

_Holy hell, if my mind could only just keep up with my body! _He leans forward and kisses me quickly. He grabs his stuff from my side table and his shoes—which he doesn't put on.

"Sam will come by later and sort your Beetle. I was serious. Don't drive it. I'll see you at my place on Sunday. I'll e-mail you a time." And like a whirlwind, he's gone.

_Vincent Keller spent the night with me_, and I feel rested. And there was no sex, only cuddling. He told me he never slept with anyone—but he's slept, not once, not twice, but three times with me. I grin and slowly climb out of my bed. I feel more optimistic than I have for the last day or so. I head for the kitchen, needing a cup of tea.

* * *

><p>After breakfast, I shower and dress quickly for my last day at Clayton's. It's the end of an era—good-bye to Mr. and Mrs. Clayton, WSU, Vancouver, the apartment, my Beetle...<p>

I glance at the mean machine—it's only 7:52. I have time...

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Assault and Battery: The After-Effects

**Date:** May 27 2011 08:05

**To:** Vincent Keller

Dear Mr. Keller,

You wanted to know why I felt confused after you—which euphemism should we apply—spanked, punished, beat, assaulted me. Well, during the whole alarming process, I felt demeaned, debased, and abused. And much to my mortification, you're right, I was turned on by this, and that was unexpected. As you are well aware, all things sexual are new to me—I only wish I was more experienced and therefore more prepared. I was shocked to feel aroused.

What really worried me was how I felt afterward. And that's more difficult to articulate. I was happy that you were happy. I felt relieved that it wasn't as painful as I thought it would be. And when I was lying in your arms, I felt... sated. But, I feel very uncomfortable—guilty even—feeling that way. It doesn't sit well with me, and I'm confused as a result. Does that answer your question?

I hope the world of Mergers and Acquisitions is as stimulating as ever... and that you weren't too late.

Thank you for staying with me.

Cat

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Free Your Mind

**Date:** May 27 2011 08:24

**To: **Catherine Chandler

Interesting... if slightly overstated title heading, Miss Chandler.

To answer your points:

-I'll go with spanking—as that's what it was.

-So you felt demeaned, debased, abused, and assaulted—how very Tess Durbeyfield of you. I believe it was _you_ who decided on the debasement, if I remember correctly. Do you really feel like this or do you _think _you ought to feel like this? Two very different things. If that _is _how you feel, do you think you could just try to embrace these feelings, deal with them, for me? That's what a submissive would do.

-I am grateful for your inexperience. I value it, and I'm only beginning to understand what it means. Simply put... it means that you are _mine _in every way.

-Yes, you were aroused, which in turn was very arousing for me. There's nothing wrong with that.

-Happy does not even begin to cover how I felt. Ecstatic joy comes close.

-Punishment spanking hurts far more than sensual spanking—so that's about as hard as it gets, unless, of course, you commit some major transgression, in which case I'll use some implement to punish you with. My hand was very sore. But I like that.

-I felt sated too—more than you could ever have known.

-Don't waist your energy on guilt, feelings of wrongdoing, etc. We are consenting adults and what we do behind closed doors is between us. You need to free your mind and listen to your body.

-The world of M&A is not nearly as stimulating as you are, Miss Chandler.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings Inc.

* * *

><p><em>Holy crap... 'Mine in every way.' <em>My breath hitches.

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Consenting Adults!

**Date:** May 27 2011 08:26

**To: **Vincent Keller

Aren't you in a meeting?

I'm very glad your hand was sore.

And if I listened to my body, I'd be in Alaska by now.

Cat

P.S.: I will think about embracing these feelings.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** You Didn't Call the Cops

**Date:** May 27 2011 08:35

**To: **Catherine Chandler

Miss Chandler,

I am in a meeting discussing the futures market, if you're really interested.

For the record, you stood beside me knowing what I was going to do. You didn't at any time ask me to stop—you didn't use either safe-word. You are an adult—you have choices.

Quite frankly, I'm looking forward to the next time my palm is ringing with pain.

You're obviously not listening to the right part of your body. Alaska is very cold and no place to run. I would find you... I can track your cell phone—remember?

Go to work, Catherine.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p>I scowl at the screen. He's right though. It is my choice. <em>Hmm... Is he serious about coming to find me? Should I decide to escape for a while? <em>My mind flits briefly to my mother's offer. I hit reply...

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Stalker!

**Date: **May 27 2011 08:36

**To:** Vincent Keller

Have you sought therapy for your stalker tendencies?

Cat

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Vincent Keller

**Subject: **Stalker? Me?

**Date: **May 27 2011 08:38

**To: **Catherine Chandler

I pay the eminent Dr. Marks a small fortune with regard to my stalker and other tendencies.

Go to work.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject: **Expensive Charlatans

**Date:** May 27 2011 08:40

**To:** Vincent Keller

May I humbly suggest you seek a second opinion? I am not sure that Dr. Marks is very effective.

Miss Chandler

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Vincent Keller

**Subject: **Second Opinions

**Date:** May 27 2011 08:43

**To: **Catherine Chandler

Not that it's any of your business, humble or otherwise, but Dr. Marks_ is_ the second opinion.

You will have to speed, in you new car, putting yourself at unnecessary risk—I think that's against the rules.

GO TO WORK.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** SHOUTY CAPITALS

**Date:** May 27 2011 08:47

**To: **Vincent Keller

As the object of your stalker tendencies, I think it is my business, actually.

I haven't signed yet. So rules, schmules. And I don't start until 9:30.

Miss Chandler

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject: **Descriptive Linguistics

**Date:** May 27 2011 08:49

**To:** Catherine Chandler

"Schmules"? Not sure where that appears in Webster's Dictionary.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject: **Descriptive Linguistics

**Date:** May 27 2011 08:52

**To: **Vincent Keller

It's between control freak and stalker. And descriptive linguistics is a hard limit for me.

Will you stop bothering me now?

I'd like to go to work now in my new car.

Catherine

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Challenging but Amusing Young Women

**Date:** May 27 2011 08:56

**To: **Catherine Chandler

My palm is twitching.

Drive safely, Miss Chandler.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p>The Audi is a joy to drive. It has power steering. Wanda, my Beetle, has no power in it at all—anywhere—so my daily workout, which was driving my Beetle, will cease. Oh, but I will have a personal trainer to contend with, according to Vincent's rules. I frown. <em>I hate exercising!<em>

While I am driving, I try to analyze our e-mail exchange. He's a patronizing son of a bitch sometimes. And then I think of Mary and I feel guilty. But, of course, she wasn't his birth mother. _Hmm_, that's a whole world of unknown pain. Well, patronizing son of a bitch works then. Yes. I am an adult. _Thank you for reminding me, Vincent Keller. _And it is my choice. The problem is, I just want Vincent, not all his... baggage—and right now he has a 747 cargo hold's worth of baggage. _Could I just lie back and embrace it? Like__a submissive? _I've said I'd try. It's an awfully big ask.

I pull into the parking lot at Clayton's. As I make my way in, I can hardly believe it's my last day. Fortunately, the store is busy and time passes quickly.

At lunchtime, Mr. Clayton summons me from the stockroom. He's standing beside a motorcycle courier.

"Miss Chandler?" the courier asks. I frown questioningly at Mr. Clayton, who shrugs, as puzzled as me. My heart sinks. _What has Vincent sent me now?_ I sign for the small package and open it immediately. It's a BlackBerry. My heart sinks further and I switch it on.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** BlackBerry ON LOAN

**Date: **May 27 2011 11:15

**To: **Catherine Chandler

I need to be able to contact you at all time, and since this is your most honest form of communication, I figured you needed a BlackBerry.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Consumerism Gone Mad

**Date: **May 27 2011 13:22

**To:** Vincent Keller

I think you need to call Dr. Marks right now. Your stalker tendencies are running wild.

I am at work. I will e-mail you when I get home.

Thank you for yet another gadget. I wasn't wrong when I said you were the ultimate consumer.

Why do you do this?

Cat

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Sagacity from One So Young

**Date:** May 27 2011 13:24

**To: **Catherine Chandler

Fair point well made, as ever, Miss Chandler.

Dr. Marks is on vacation.

And I do this because I can.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings Inc.

* * *

><p>I put the thing in my back pocket, hating it already. E-mailing Vincent is very addictive, but I am supposed to be working. It buzzes once against my behind... <em>How apt, <em>I think ironically, but summoning all my willpower, I ignore it.

* * *

><p>At four, Mr. and Mrs. Clayton gather the other employees in the shop and, during a hair-curling embarrassing speech, present me with a check for three hundred dollars. In that moment, all the events from the past three weeks well up inside of me: exams, graduation, an intense fucked-up billionaire, deflowering, hard and soft limits, playrooms with no consoles, helicopter rides, new car and technology, and the fact that I am moving tomorrow.<p>

Amazingly, I hold myself together. My subconscious is in awe. I hug the Claytons hard. They have been kind and generous employers, and I will miss them.

* * *

><p>Tess is climbing out of her car when I arrive home.<p>

"What's that?" she says accusingly, pointing at the Audi. Oh, I just can't resist!

"It's a car." I quip. She narrows her eyes, and for a brief moment, I wonder if she's going to put me across her knee. "My graduation present." I try to act nonchalant. _Yes, I get expensive cars given to me every day. _Her mouth drops open.

"Generous, over-the-top bastard, isn't he?"

I nod, "I did try not to accept it, but frankly, it's just not worth the fight."

Tess purses her lips, "No wonder you're overwhelmed. I did note that he stayed."

"Yeah." I smile wistfully.

"Shall we finish packing?"

I nod and follow her inside. I check the e-mail from Vincent.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Sunday

**Date:** May 27 2011 13:40

**To:** Catherine Chandler

Shall I see you at 1 p.m. Sunday? The doctor will be at Escala to see you at 1:30.

I'm leaving for Seattle now.

I hope your move goes well, and I look forward to Sunday.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><em>Jeez, he could be discussing the weather. <em>I decide to e-mail him later, once I'm finished packing. He can be such fun one minute, and then he can be so formal and stuffy the next. It's difficult to keep up. Honestly, it's like an e-mail to an employee. I roll my eyes at it definitely and join Tess to pack.

Tess and I are in the kitchen when there's a knock on the door. Sam stands on the porch, looking immaculate in his suit. I notice the trace of ex-army in his buzz cut, his trim physique, and his cool stare.

"Miss Chandler." he says, "I've come for your car."

"Oh yes, of course. Come in, I'll get the keys."

Surely this is above and beyond the call of duty. I wonder again at Sam's job description. I hand him the keys, and we walk in an uncomfortable silence—for me—toward the light blue Beetle. I open the door and remove the flashlight from the glove box. That's it. Nothing else important or personal in here. _Good-bye, Wanda. Thank you. _I caress her roof as I close the passenger door.

"How long have you worked for Mr. Keller?" I ask.

"Four years, Miss Chandler."

Suddenly, I have an overwhelming urge to bombard him with questions. What this man must know about Vincent, all his secrets. But then again, he's probably sighed an NDA. I look nervously at him. He has the same taciturn expression as Thomas, and I warm to him.

"He's a good man, Miss Chandler." he says with a smile. Then he gives me a little nod, climbs into my car, and drives away.

_Apartment, Beetle, Clayton's—_it's all change now. I shake my head as I wander back inside. And the biggest change of all is Vincent Keller. Sam thinks he's a _good man. _Can I believe him?

* * *

><p>Patrick joins us with Chinese at eight. We're finally done. We're packed and ready to go. He brings several bottles of beer, and Tess and I sit on the couch while he's cross-legged on the floor between us. We watch crap TV, drink beer, and, as the evening wears on, we finally loudly reminisce as the beer takes effect. It's been a great four years.<p>

The atmosphere between Patrick and I has returned to normal, the attempted kiss, forgotten. Well, it's been swept under the rug that my inner goddess is lying on, eating grapes and tapping her fingers, waiting not so patiently for Sunday. There's a knock on the door, and my heart leaps into my throat.

_Is it?..._

Tess answers the door and is nearly knocked off her feet by JT. He seizes her in a Hollywood-style clinch that moves quickly into a European art house embrace. _Honestly... get a fucking room! _Patrick and I stare at each other. I'm appalled at their lack of modesty.

"Shall we walk down to the bar?" I ask Patrick, who nods frantically. We are too uncomfortable with the unrestrained sexing unfolding in front of us. Tess looks up at me, flushed and bright-eyed.

"Patrick and I are going down to the bar for a quick drink." I roll my eyes at her. _Ha! I can still roll my eyes in my own time._

"Okay." she grins.

"Hi, JT. Bye, JT." I say as I walk past them and out of the door. He winks a big hazel eye at me, and Patrick and I are finally outside away from the madness, giggling like teenagers.

* * *

><p>As we stroll down to the bar, I put my arm through Patrick's. <em>God, he's so uncomplicated<em>—I hadn't really appreciated that before.

"You'll still come to the opening of my show, won't you?"

"Of course, Patrick, when is it?"

"June ninth."

"What day is that?" I suddenly panic.

"It's a Thursday."

I sigh. _Thank God! Praise Jesus!_

"Yeah, I should make that... and you will visit us in Seattle?"

"Try to stop me." he grins.

* * *

><p>It's late when I arrive back from the bar. Tess and JT are nowhere to be seen, but boy, can they be heard. <em>Holy shit! <em>I hope I'm not that loud. I know Vincent isn't. I flush at the thought and escape to my room.

After a brief not-at-all-awkward-thank-goodness hug, Patrick has gone. I don't know when I'll see him again, probably his photography show, and once again. I'm blown away that he finally has an exhibition. I shall miss him and his boyish charm. I couldn't bring myself to tell him about the Beetle. I know he'll freak when he finds out, and I can only deal with one man at a time freaking out at me. Once in my room, I check the mean machine, and of course, as always, Vincent has left me an e-mail in my inbox.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Where Are You?

**Date:** May 27 2011 22:14

**To:** Catherine Chandler

"_I am at work. I will e-mail you when I get home."_

Are you still at work or have you packed your phone, BlackBerry, and MacBook?

Call me, or I may be forced to call JT.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><em>Crap...Patrick...shit!<em>

I grab my phone. Five missed calls and one voice message.

Tentatively, I listen to the message. It's Vincent:

"_I think you need to learn to manage my expectations. I am not a patient man. If you say you are going to contact me when you finish work, then you should have the decency to do so. Otherwise, I worry, and it's not an emotion I'm familiar with, and I don't tolerate it very well. Call me, please."_

_Double crap! Will he ever give me a break?! _I scowl at the phone. He is suffocating me. With a deep dread uncurling in my stomach, I scroll down to his number and press call. My heart is in my mouth as I wait for him to answer. He'd probably like to beat seven shades of shit out of me. The thought is depressing.

"Hi." he says softly, and his response knocks me off balance because I am actually expecting his anger, but if anything, he sounds relieved.

"Hi." I murmur.

"I was worried about you."

"I know. I'm sorry I didn't reply, but I'm fine."

He pauses for a beat.

"Did you have a pleasant evening?" he is crisply polite.

"Yes. We finished packing and Tess and I had Chinese take-out with Patrick." I close my eyes tightly as I say Patrick's name. Vincent says nothing. "How about you?" I ask to fill the sudden deafening chasm of silence. I will not let him make me feel guilty about Patrick!

Eventually, he sighs. "I went to a fund-raising dinner. It was deathly dull. I left as soon as I could."

He sounds so sad and resigned. My heart clenches. I picture him all those nights ago sitting at the piano in his huge living room and the unbearable bittersweet melancholy of the music he was playing.

"I wish you were here." I whisper, because I have an urge to hold him. Soothe him. Even though he won't let me. I want his proximity.

"Do you?" he murmurs blandly. _Holy shit! _This doesn't sound like him, and my scalp prickles with dawning apprehension.

"Yes." I breathe. After an eternity, he sighs.

"I'll see you Sunday?"

"Yes, Sunday." I murmur, and a thrill courses through my body.

"Good night."

"Good night, Sir."

My address catches him unawares, I can tell by his sharp intake of breath.

"Good luck with your move tomorrow, Catherine." his voice is soft. And we're both hanging on the phone like teenagers, neither wanting to hang up.

"You hang up." I whisper. Finally, I sense his smile.

"No, you hang up." And I know he's grinning.

"I don't want to."

"Neither do I."

"Were you very angry with me?"

"Yes."

"Are you still?" I ask. _Please say no!_

"No."

_Praise Jesus! _"So you're not going to punish me?"

"No. I'm an in-the-moment kind of guy."

"I've noticed."

"You can hang up now, Miss Chandler."

"Do you really want me to, Sir?"

"Go to bed, Catherine."

"Yes, Sir."

We both stay on the line.

"Do you ever think you'll be able to do what you're told?" He's amused and exasperated at once.

"Maybe. We'll see after Sunday." And I press end on the phone, hanging up.

* * *

><p>JT stands and admires his handiwork. He has replugged our TV into the satellite system in our Pike Place Market apartment. Tess and I flop onto the couch giggling, impressed by his prowess with a power drill. The flat screen looks odd against the brickwork of the converted warehouse, but no doubt I will get used to it.<p>

"See, baby? Easy." JT grins a wide, white-toothed smile at Tess, and she almost literally dissolves into the couch.

I roll my eyes at the pair of them.

"I'd love to stay, babe, but my sister is back from Paris. It's a compulsory family dinner tonight."

"Can you come by after?" Tess asks tentatively, all soft and un-Tess-like.

I stand and make my way over to the kitchen area on the pretense of unpacking one of the crates. They are going to get icky.

"I'll see if I can escape." he promises.

"I'll come down with you." Tess smiles.

"Laters, Cat." JT grins.

"Bye, JT. Say hi to Vincent from me."

"Just hi?" His eyebrows shoot up suggestively.

"Yeah." I flush. He winks at me, and I go crimson as he follows Tess out of the apartment.

JT is adorable and so different from Vincent. He's warm, open, physical, very physical, too physical, with Tess. They can barely keep their hands off each other—to be honest it's embarrassing—and I am pea green with envy.

* * *

><p>At eight, the entry-phone buzzes. Tess leaps up—and my heart leaps into my throat.<p>

"Delivery, Miss Chandler, Miss Vargas." Disappointment flows freely and unexpectedly through my veins. It's not Vincent.

"Second floor, apartment two." Tess buzzes the delivery boy in.

His mouth falls open when he sees Tess, all tight jeans, T-shirt, and hair piled high with escaping tendrils. She has that effect on men. He holds a bottle of champagne with a helicopter-shaped balloon attached. She gives him a dazzling smile to send him on his way and proceeds to read the card out to me.

_Ladies,_

_Good luck in your new home._

_Vincent Keller_

Tess shakes her head in disapproval, "Why can't he just write 'from Vincent'? And what's with the weird helicopter balloon?"

"Charlie Tango." I whisper.

"What?"

"Vincent flew me to Seattle in his helicopter." I shrug.

Tess stares at me open-mouthed. I have to say I love these occasions—Tess Vargas, silent and floored—they are so rare. I take a brief and luxurious moment to enjoy it.

"Yep, he has a helicopter, which he flew himself." I state proudly.

"Of course the obscenely rich bastard has a helicopter. Why didn't you tell me?" Tess looks accusingly at me, but she's smiling, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I've had a lot on my mind lately." I murmur.

She frowns, "Are you going to be okay while I'm away?" she asks.

"Of course." I answer reassuringly. _New city, no job...nut-job boyfriend._

"Did you give him our address?"

"No, but stalking is one of his specialties." I muse matter-of-factly.

Tess' brow knits further. "Somehow, I'm not surprised. He worries me, Cat. At least it's a good champagne and it's chilled."

Of course. Only Vincent would send chilled champagne, or get his secretary to do it... or maybe Sam. We open it there and then find our teacups—they were the last items to be packed.

"Bollinger Grande Annee Rose 1999, an excellent vintage." I grin at Tess, and we clink teacups.

* * *

><p>I wake early to a gray Sunday morning after a surprisingly refreshing night's sleep and lie awake staring at my crates. <em>You should really be unpacking these, <em>my subconscious nags, pursing her harpy lips together. _No... today's the day. _My inner goddess is beside herself, hopping from foot to foot. Anticipation hangs heavy and portentous over my belly—as well as a darker, carnal, captivating ache as I try to imagine what he will do to me... and of course, I have to sign that damned contract... _or do I? _I hear the ping of incoming mail from the mean machine on the floor beside my bed.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject: **My Life in Numbers

**Date: **May 29 2011 08:04

**To: **Catherine Chandler

If you drive, you'll need this access code for the underground garage at Escala: 146963.

Park in bay five—it's one of mine.

Code for the elevator: 1880.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** An Excellent Vintage

**Date:** May 29 2011 08:08

**To:** Vincent Keller

Yes, Sir. Understood.

Thank you for the champagne and the blow-up Charlie Tango, which is now tied to my bed.

Cat

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Envy

**Date:** May 29 2011 08:11

**To:** Catherine Chandler

You're welcome. Don't be late.

Lucky Charlie Tango.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings Inc.

* * *

><p>I roll my eyes at his bossiness, but his last comment makes me smile. I head for the bathroom, wondering if JT made it back last night and trying hard to rein in my nerves.<p>

* * *

><p><em>I can drive the Audi in high heels!<em> At 12:55 p.m. precisely, I pull into the garage at Escala and park in bay five. _How many bays does he own?_ The Audi SUV and R8 are there, along with two smaller Audi SUVs... _hmm. _I check my seldom-worn mascara in the light-up vanity mirror on my visor. Didn't have one of these in the Beetle.

_Go girl! _My inner goddess has her pom-poms in hand—she's in cheerleading mode. In the infinity mirrors of the elevator, I check out my plum dress—well, Tess' plum dress. The last time I wore this, he wanted to peel it off me. My body clenches at the thought. The feeling is just exquisite, and I catch my breath. I'm wearing the underwear that Sam bought for me. I flush at the thought of his buzz cut roaming the aisles of Agent Provocateur or wherever he bought it. The doors open, and I'm facing the foyer of apartment number one.

Sam stands at the double doors as I step out of the elevator.

"Good afternoon, Miss Chandler." he says.

"Oh, please. Call me Cat."

"Cat." he smiles. "Mr. Keller is expecting you."

_I bet he is..._

Vincent is seated on his living room couch reading the Sunday's papers. He glances up as Sam directs me into the living area. The room is exactly how I remember it—it's been a whole week, yet it feels longer since I have been here. Vincent looks cool and calm—actually, he look heavenly. He's in a loose white linen shirt and jeans, no shoes or socks. His hair is tousled and unkempt, and his eyes twinkle wickedly. He rises and strolls toward me, an amused appraising smile on his beautiful sculptured lips.

I stand immobilized at the entrance of the room, paralyzed by his beauty and the sweet anticipation of what's to come. The familiar charge between us is there, sparking slowly in my belly, drawing me to him.

"Hmm... that dress." he murmurs approvingly as he gazes down at me. "Welcome back, Miss Chandler." he whispers and, clasping my chin, he leans down and proffers a gentle, light kiss on my lips. The touch of his lips on mine sends chills down my spine. My breath hitches even.

"Hi." I whisper as I flush.

"You're on time. I like punctual. Come here." he takes my hand and leads me to the couch. "I wanted to show your something." he says as we sit. He hands me the Seattle Times. On page eight, there's a photo of the two of us together at the graduation ceremony. _Oh wow! I'm in the paper!_ I check the caption:

_Vincent Keller and friend at the graduation ceremony at WSU Vancouver._

I laugh, "So I'm your 'friend' now."

"So it would appear. And it's in the newspaper, so it must be true." he smirks.

Sitting back beside me, his whole body is turned toward me, one of his legs tucked under the other. Reaching over, he tucks my hair behind my ear with his long index finger. My body comes to life at his touch, waiting and needful.

"So, Catherine. You have a much better idea of what I'm about since you were last here."

"Yes." _Where's he going with this?_

"And yet you've returned."

I nod shyly, and his eyes blaze. He shakes his head as if he's struggling with the idea. "Have you eaten?" he asks out of the blue.

_Shit._

"No."

"Are you hungry?" He's really trying not to look annoyed.

"Not for food." I whisper, and his nostrils flare in reaction.

He leans forward and whispers in my ear, "You are as eager as ever, Miss Chandler. And just to let you in on a little secret... so am I. But Dr. Greene is due here shortly." he sits up, "I wish you'd eat." he scolds me mildly. My heated blood cools. _Holy cow—the doctor. _I'd forgotten already.

"What can you tell me about Dr. Greene?" I ask to distract us both.

"She's the best ob-gyn in Seattle. What more can I say?" he shrugs.

"I thought I was seeing your doctor, and don't tell me you're really a woman, because I won't believe you."

He gives me a don't-be-ridiculous look. "I think it's more appropriate that you see a specialist. Don't you?" he says mildly.

I nod.

Vincent frowns suddenly as if recalling something unpleasant. "Catherine, my mother would like you to come to dinner this evening. I believe JT is asking Tess, too. I don't know how you feel about that. It will be odd for me to introduce you to my family."

_Odd? Why?_

"Are you ashamed of me?" I can't keep the wounded hurt out of my voice.

"Of course not!" He rolls his eyes.

"Why is it odd?"

"Because I've never done it before."

"Why are you allowed to roll your eyes, and I'm not?"

He blinks at me, "I wasn't aware that I was."

"Neither am I, usually." I snap.

Vincent glares at me, speechless. Sam appears at the doorway, "Dr. Greene is here, sir."

"Show her up to Miss Chandler's room."

_Miss Chandler's room!_

"Ready for some contraception?" he asks as he stands and holds out his hand to me.

"You're not going to come as well, are you?" I gasp, shocked.

He laughs, "I'd pay very good money to watch, believe me, Catherine. But I don't think the good doctor would approve."

I take his hand, and he pulls me up into his arms and kisses me deeply. I clutch his muscular arms, taken by surprise. His hand is in my hair, holding my head, and he pulls me against him, his forehead against mine.

"I'm so glad you're here." he whispers, "I can't wait to get you naked."

_Oh fucking my!_

* * *

><p><em><strong>**Help me jesus for what's to come... I'm dying just thinking about it. Yal have to wait though lol. I may hold off to let everyone catch up lol. You never know with me though lol. Anyways, thanks so much for being awesome and patient with me. I hope this chapter helped clear up the whole spanking thing in the last chapter... I know it had to be hard to read. Let me know what ya think. XOXO!)<strong>_


	18. Chapter 18

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*WARNING:<strong>** The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, ****graphic sexual content, and DOM/SUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*Extra:<strong>** I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: So I'm getting a lot of comments on how V does not want to be touched. There is a very dark reason as to why he can't stand it. It IS a phobia for him, which will be explained later on in the story. Yes I know it is more intimate to be touched during sex, but he honestly cannot stand it at all. Just be patient lol. Thanks guys, I hope that helps XOXO).**

_Italics represent Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 18-<strong>_

Dr. Greene is tall, blond and immaculate, dressed in a royal blue suit. I'm reminded of the women who work in Vincent's office. She's like an identikit model—another Stepford blonde. He long hair is swept up in an elegant chignon. She must be in her early forties.

"Mr. Keller." She shakes Vincent's hand.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice." Vincent says.

"Thank you for making it worth my while, Mr. Keller. Miss Chandler." She smiles, her eyes cool and assessing.

We shake hands and I know she's one of those women who doesn't tolerate fools gladly. Like Tess. I like her immediately. She gives Vincent a pointed stare, and after and awkward beat, he takes his cue, "I'll be downstairs." he mutters, and he leaves what will be my bedroom.

"Well, Miss Chandler. Mr. Keller is paying me a small fortune to attend you. What can I do for you?"

* * *

><p>After a thorough examination and lengthy discussion, Dr. Greene and I decide on the mini pill. She writes me a prescription and instructs me to pick the pills up tomorrow. I love her no-nonsense attitude—she has lectured me until she's as blue as her dress about taking it at the same time every day. And I can tell she's burning with curiosity about my so-called relationship with Mr. Keller. I don't give her any details. Somehow I don't think she'd look so calm and collected if she'd seen his Red Room of Pain. I flush as we pass it's closed door and head back downstairs to the art gallery that is Vincent's living room.<p>

Vincent is reading, seated on his couch. A breathtaking aria is playing on the music system, swirling around him, cocooning him, filling the room with a sweet, soulful song. For a moment, he looks serene. He turns and glances at us when we enter and smiles warmly at me.

"Are you done?" he asks as if he's genuinely interested. He points the remote at a sleek white box beneath the fireplace that houses his iPod, and the exquisite melody fades but continues in the background. Standing, he strolls toward us.

"Yes, Mr. Keller. Look after her; she's a beautiful, bright young woman."

Vincent is taken aback—as am I. What an inappropriate thing for a doctor to say. _Is she giving him some kind of not-so-subtle warning?_ Vincent recovers himself.

"I fully intend to." he mutters, bemused.

Gazing at him, I shrug, embarrassed.

"I'll send you my bill." she says crisply as she shakes his hand again. "Good day, and good luck to you, Cat." She smiles, her eyes crinkling, as we shake hands.

Sam appears from nowhere to escort her through the double doors and out to the elevator._ How does he do that? Where does he lurk?_

"How was that?" Vincent asks.

"Fine, thank you. She said that I had to abstain from all sexual activity for the next four weeks."

Vincent's mouth drops open in shock, and I can't keep a straight face any longer and grin at him like an idiot. "Gotcha!"

He narrows his eyes, and I immediately stop laughing. In fact, he looks rather forbidding. _Oh, shit! _My subconscious quails in the corner as all the blood drains from my face, and imagine him putting me across his knee.

"Gotcha!" he says, and smirks. He grabs me around my waist and pulls me up against him. "You are incorrigible, Miss Chandler." he murmurs, staring down into my eyes as he weaves his fingers into my hair, holding me firmly in place. He kisses me—hard—and I cling on to his muscular arms for support.

"As much as I'd like to take you here and now, you need to eat and so do I. I don't want you passing out on me later." hr murmurs against my lips.

"Is that all you want me for—my body?" I whisper.

"That and your smart mouth." he breathes.

He kisses me again—passionately—and then abruptly releases me, taking my hand and leads me to the kitchen. I'm reeling. One minute we're joking and the next... I fan my heated face. He's just sex on legs, and now I have to recover my equilibrium and eat something. The aria is still playing in the background.

"What's the music?" I ask.

"'Villa Lobos', an aria from Bachianas Brasileiras. Good, isnt it?"

"Yes." I murmurs in total agreement.

The breakfast bar is laid for two. Vincent takes a salad bowl from the fridge.

"Chicken caesar salad okay with you?"

_Oh, thank heavens, nothing too heavy._

"Yes, fine, thank you."

I watch as he moves gracefully through his kitchen. He's so at ease with his body on one level, but then again, he isn't. No man is an island, I muse—except perhaps Vincent Keller.

"What are you thinking?" he asks, pulling me from my reverie. I flush.

"I was just watching the way you move."

He raises an eyebrow, amused. "And?" he says dryly.

I flush once more. "You're very graceful."

"Why thank you, Miss Chandler." he murmurs. He sits down beside me, holding a bottle of wine. "Chablis?"

"Please." I whisper.

"Help yourself to salad." he says, his voice soft. "Tell me—what method did you opt for?"

I'm momentarily thrown by his question, when I realize he's talking about Dr. Greene's visit.

"Mini pill."

He frowns.

"And will you remember to take it regularly, at the right time, every day?"

_Jeez... of course I will! How does he know? _I blush at the thought—probably from one or more of the fifteen.

"I'm sure you'll remind me." I murmur dryly.

He glances at me with amused condescension.

"I'll put an alarm on my calendar." He smirks, "Eat."

* * *

><p>The salad is beyond delicious. To my surprise, I'm famished, and for the first time since I've been with Vincent, I finish my meal before he does. The wine is crisp, clean, and fruity.<p>

"Eager as ever, Miss Chandler?" he smiles down at my empty plate.

I look at him from beneath my lashes, "Yes." I whisper.

His breath hitches. And as he stares down at me, the atmosphere between us slowly shifting, evolving...charging. His look goes from dark to smoldering, taking me with me. He stands, closing the distance between us, and tugs me off my bar-stool into his arms.

"Do you want to do this?" he breathes, looking down at me intently.

"I haven't signed anything."

"I know—but I'm breaking all the rules these days."

"Are you going to hit me?"

"Yes, but it won't be to hurt you. I don't want to punish you right now. If you'd caught me yesterday evening, well, that would have been a different story."

_Holy cow! _He _wants _to hurt me... _how do I deal with this?_ I can't hide the horror on my face.

"Don't let anyone try to convince you otherwise, Catherine. One of the reasons people like me do this is because we either like to give or receive pain. It's very simple. You don't, so I spent a great deal of time yesterday thinking about that."

He pulls me against him, and his erection presses into my belly. I should run, but I can't. I'm drawn to him on some deep, elemental level that I can't even begin to understand.

"Did you reach any conclusions?" I whisper.

"No, and right now, I just want to tie you up and fuck you senseless. Sound good to you?"

"Yes." I breathe as everything in my body tightens at once..._wow!_

"Good. Come on." he takes my hand and—leaving all the dirty dishes on the breakfast bar—we head upstairs.

My heart is pounding out of my chest. _This is it._ _I'm really going to do this._ My inner goddess is spinning like a world-class ballerina, pirouette after pirouette. He opens the door to his playroom, standing back for me to walk through, and I'm once more in the Red Room of Pain.

* * *

><p>Its the same. The smell of leather, citrus-scented polish, and dark wood, all very sensual. My blood is running heated and scared through my veins—adrenaline mixed with lust and longing. It's a heady, potent cocktail. Vincent's stance has changed completely, subtly altered, harder and meaner. He gazes down at me and his eyes are heated, lustful... hypnotic.<p>

"When you're in here, you are completely mine." he breathes, each word slow and measured. "To do with as I see fit. Do you understand?"

His gaze is so intense. I nod, my mouth dry, my heart feeling as if it will jump out of my chest.

"Take your shoes off." he orders softly.

I swallow, and rather clumsily, I take them off. He bends and picks them up and deposits them beside the door.

"Good. Don't hesitate when I ask you to do something. Now I'm going to peel you out of this dress. Something I've wanted to do for a few days, if I recall. I want you to be comfortable with your body, Catherine. You have a beautiful body, and I like looking at it. It is a joy to behold. In fact, I could gaze at you naked all day, and I want you un-embarrassed and un-ashamed of your nakedness. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?" he leans over me, glaring.

"Yes, Sir."

"Do you mean that?" he snaps.

"Yes, Sir." I whisper.

"Good. Lift your arms up over your head."

I do as I'm told, and he reaches down and grabs the hem to my dress. Slowly, he pulls my dress up over my thighs, my hips, my belly, my breasts, my shoulders, and up over my head. He stands back to examine me and absentmindedly folds my dress, not taking his eyes off mine. He places the dress on the large chest beside the door. Reaching up, he pulls at my chin, his touch searing me.

"You're biting your lip." he breathes. "You know what that does to me." he adds quickly. "Turn around." he whispers.

I turn immediately, no hesitation. He unclasps my bra and then, taking both straps, he slowly pulls it down my arms, brushing my skin with his fingers and the tip of his thumbnails as he slides my bra completely off. His touch sends shivers down my spine, waking every nerve ending in my body. He's standing behind me, so close that I feel the heat radiating from him, warming me, warming me all over. He pulls my hair so it's all hanging down my back, grasps a handful at my nape, and angles my head to one side. He runs his nose down my exposed neck, inhaling all the way, then back up to my ear. The muscles in my belly clench, carnal and wanting. _Jeez, he's hardly touched me, and I want him._

"You smell divine as ever, Catherine." he whispers as he places a soft kiss beneath my ear.

I moan.

"Shh... don't make a sound."

Pulling my hair behind me, to my surprise, he starts braiding it in one braid, his fingers fast and deft. He ties it with an unseen hair tie when he's finished and gives it a quick tug so I'm forced back against him.

"I like your hair braided in here." he whispers.

_Hmm...why?_

He releases my hair.

"Turn around." he orders.

I do as I'm bid, my breathing shallow, fear and longing mixed together. It's an intoxicating mix.

"When I tell you to come in here, this is how you will dress. Just in your panties. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?" he glowers at me.

"Yes, Sir."

A trace of a smile lifts the corners of his mouth.

"Good girl." His eyes burn into mine. "When I tell you to come in here, I expect you to kneel over there." He points to a spot behind the door. "Do it now."

_Gosh! So demanding! So...HOT!_

I blink, processing his words, then turn and rather clumsily kneel as directed.

"You can sit back on your heels. It's a lot more comfortable." he whispers.

I sit back.

"Place your hands and forearms flat on your thighs."

I do as instructed.

"Good. Now part your knees...Wider. Wider. Perfect... Look down at the floor."

He walks over to me, and I can see his feet and shins in my field of vision._ Naked feet._ I should be taking notes if he wants me to remember. He reaches down and grasps my braid again, then pulls my head back so I'm looking up at him. It's only just not painful.

"Will you remember this position, Catherine?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. Stay here, don't move." He leaves the room.

I'm on my knees, waiting. Wanting. _Where's he gone? What is he going to do to me?_ Time shifts. I have no idea how long he leaves me like this... a few minutes, five, ten? My breathing has increased with full blown needy, liquid, desire. The anticipation is devouring me from the inside out.

And suddenly he's back—and all at once I'm calmer and more excited in the same breath. _Could I be more excited? _I can see his feet. He's changed his jeans. _These_ jeans are hot. He shuts the door and hangs something on the back.

"Good girl, Catherine. You look lovely like that. Well done. Stand up."

I stand, but keep my face down. One of the rules stated not to look him in the eye. I sigh. _I can do this!_

"Look at me." he whispers his command softly. _What?!_

I peek up at him, and he's staring at me intently, assessing, but his eyes soften. He's taken off his shirt. _Oh my... I want to touch him!_ The top button of his jeans is undone.

"I'm going to chain you now, Catherine. Give me your right hand."

I give it to him, without hesitation. He turns it palm up, and before I know it, he swats the center with a riding crop I hadn't noticed is in his right hand. It happens so quickly that the surprise hardly registers. Even more astonishing—it doesn't even hurt. Well, not much, just a slight ringing sting.

"How does that feel?" he asks.

I blink at him, confused.

"Answer me."

"Okay." I frown.

"Don't frown."

I blink and try for impassive. I succeed.

"Did that hurt?"

"No."

"This is not going to hurt. Do you understand?" he asks, domineering as usual.

"Yes." My voice is uncertain. _Is it really not going to hurt?_

"I mean it." he says.

_Jeez, my breathing is so shallow. Does he know what I'm thinking? _He shows me the crop. _It's brown plaited leather! _My eyes dart up to meet his, and they're alight with fire and a trace of amusement.

"We aim to please, Miss Chandler." he murmurs. "Come on." he takes my elbow and moves me to beneath the grid. He reaches up and takes down some shackles with black leather cuffs.

"This grid is designed so the shackles move across the grid."

I glance up. _Holy shit! It's like a subway map!_

"We're going to start here, but I want to fuck you standing up. So we'll end up over by the wall over there." He points with the riding crop to where the large wooden X is on the wall.

"Put your hands above your head." he whispers.

I oblige immediately, because deep down—deep inside my belly—I want this man to do things I would never dream of to me. This is beyond fascinating, beyond erotic. It's singularly the most exciting and scary thing I've ever done. I'm entrusting myself to a beautiful man who, by his own admission, is fifty shades of fucked up. I suppress the brief thrill of fear. Tess and JT, they know I'm here.

He stands very close as he fastens the cuffs. I'm staring at his chest. His proximity is heavenly. He smells of body wash and Vincent, an inebriating mix, and that drags me back into the now. I want to trail my nose and tongue up and down his chest. I could just lean forward and do it...

He steps back and gazes at me, his expression hooded, salacious, carnal, and I'm helpless, my hands tied, but just looking at his lovely face, reading his need and longing for me, I can feel the dampness between my legs. He walks slowly around me.

"You look mighty fine trussed up like this, Miss Chandler. And your smart mouth is quiet for now. I like that."

Standing in front of me again, he hooks his fingers into my panties and, at a most unhurried pace, peels them down my legs, stripping me agonizingly slowly, so that he ends up kneeling in front of me. Not taking his eyes off mine, he scrunches my panties in his hand, and slides them into his pocket. _A trophy maybe? This is so hot! _He grins wickedly at me.

Uncoiling from the floor, rising lazily, like a jungle cat, he points the end of the riding crop at my navel, leisurely circling it—tantalizing me. At the touch of the leather, I quiver and gasp. _Literally a dream come true!_

He walks around me again, trailing the crop around the middle of my body. On his second circuit, he suddenly flicks the crop, and it hits me underneath my behind... against my sex. _JUST LIKE IN MY DREAM!_

I cry out in surprise as all of my nerve endings stand to attention. I pull against the restraints. The shock runs through me, and it's the sweetest, strangest, hedonistic feeling.

"Quiet." he whispers as he walks around me again, the crop slightly higher around the middle of my body. This time when he flicks it against me in the same place, I'm anticipating it. My body convulses at the sweet, stinging bite.

As he makes his way around me, he flicks again, this time hitting my breast, and I throw my head back as my nerve endings sing. He hits the other... a brief, swift, sweet chastisement. My nipple hardens and elongate from the assault, and I moan loudly, pulling on the leather cuffs.

"Does that feel good?" he breathes.

"Yes." I moan.

He hits me again across the buttocks. The crop stings this time.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Sir." I whimper.

He comes to a stop... but I can no longer see him. My eyes are closed as I try to absorb the myriad sensations coursing through my body. Very slowly, he trails the crop down my belly, heading south. I know where this is heading, and I try to psyche myself up for it—but when he hits my clitoris, I cry out, loudly, nearly combusting then.

"Vincent...please!" I moan, pulling the restraints as my eyes close. I bite my bottom lip.

"Quiet." he orders, and he hits me again on my behind.

_Now this type of spanking I like. More!_

I did not expect this to be like this... I am so lost. Lost in a sea of sensation. And suddenly, he's dragging the crop against my sex near my entrance.

"See how wet you are for this, Catherine?"

"Yes, Sir." I whisper, panting.

He strolls forward until we are nose to nose with each other. He takes me by surprise and begins kissing me, hard, his tongue invading my mouth. Wrapping his arms around me, he pulls me against him. His chest crushes mine, and I itch to touch him, but I can't, my hands useless above me.

"Oh, Catherine, you taste mighty fine." he breathes. "Shall I make you get off?"

"Please!" I beg.

The crop bites my ass. _Ow!_

"Please, what?"

"Please, Sir!" I whimper.

He smiles at me, triumphant.

"With this?" he holds the crop up so I can see it.

"Yes, Sir." I say more excitedly than I thought I would.

"Are you sure?" He looks sternly at me.

"Yes, please. Sir."

"Close your eyes." he whispers.

I shut the room out, him out... the crop out. He starts trailing the tip of the crop down my belly once more. Moving down, soft small licks against my clitoris... once, twice, three times, again and again until finally, that's it—I can take no more—and I get off, gloriously, loudly, sagging weakly. His arms curl around me as my legs turn to jelly. I dissolve in his embrace, my head against his chest, and I'm mewling and whimpering pants as the aftershocks of my orgasm consume me.

He lifts me, and suddenly we're moving, my arms still tethered above my head, and I can feel the cool wood of the polished X at my back, and he's popping the buttons of his jeans. He puts me down against the X briefly while he slides on a condom, and then his hands wrap around my thighs as he lifts me up again.

"Lift you legs, Catherine. Wrap them around me."

I feel so weak, but I do as he asks as he helps wrap my legs around his hips and positions himself beneath me. With one thrust, he's inside me, and I cry out again, listening to his muffled moans in my ear. My arms are resting slightly on his shoulders as he thrusts into me. _Oh my God! It's so deep this way! Don't stop, Vincent. Keep going, please!_

He thrusts again and again, his face at my neck, his harsh breathing at my throat. I feel the build up again. _Jeez! No...not again... I don't think my body will withstand another mind-blowing, __Earth-shattering__ orgasm. _But I have no choice... and with an inevitability that's becoming familiar, I let go—full force—and get off again, and it's sweet and agonizing and intense. I lose all sense of self. Vincent follows, shouting his release through clenched teeth and holding me hard and close as he does.

* * *

><p>He pulls out of me swiftly and sets me down against the X, his body supporting mine. Unbuckling the cuffs, he frees my hands, and we both sink to the floor. He pulls me into his lap, cradling me, and I lean my head against his chest. If I had the strength, I'd touch him, but I don't. Belatedly, I realize he's still wearing his jeans.<p>

"Oh my God, Catherine. That was...intense." he murmurs through pants. "Did that hurt?" he adds.

"No." I breathe. I can barely keep my eyes open. _Why am I so tired?_

"Did you expect it to?" he whispers as he holds me close, his fingers pushing some escaped hair off my face.

"Yes."

"You see? Most of your fear is in your head, Catherine." he pauses, "Would you do it again?"

I think for a moment as fatigue clouds my brain... _Again?!_

"Yes." My voice is so soft.

He hugs me tightly. "Good. So would I." he murmurs, then leans down and softly kisses the top of my head.

"And I haven't finished with you yet."

_Not finished with me yet? Holy Jesus! There's no way I can do more. Or can I? I want to! But oh God, I am so tired..._

I am utterly spent and fighting an overwhelming desire to sleep. I'm leaning against his chest, my eyes closed, and he's wrapped around me—arms and legs- and I feel... safe, and oh so comfortable. _Will he let me sleep, perchance to dream?_ My mouth quirks up in a smile at the silly thought, and turning my face into Vincent's chest, I inhale his unique scent and nuzzle him, but immediately he tenses... _oh crap! _I open my eyes and glance up at him. He staring down at me.

"Don't." he breathes in warning.

I flush and look back at his chest in longing. I want to run my tongue over his chest, kiss him, and for the first time, I notice he has a few random and faint small round scars dotted around his chest. _Chicken pox? Measles?_ I think absently.

"Kneel by the door." he orders as he sits back, putting his hands on his knees, effectively releasing me. No longer warm, the temperature of his voice has dropped several degrees.

I stumble clumsily up into a standing position and scoot over to the door and kneel as instructed. I'm shaky and very, very tired, monumentally confused. Who would have thought I could have found such gratification in this room. Who could have thought it would be so _exhausting? _My limbs are deliciously heavy, sated. My inner goddess has a DO NOT DISTURB sign on the outside of her room.

Vincent is moving about in the periphery of my vision. My eyes start to droop.

"Boring you, am I, Miss Chandler?"

I jump awake, and Vincent is standing in front of me, his arms crossed, glaring down at me. _Oh shit! Caught napping—_this is not going to be good. His eyes soften as I gaze up at him.

"Stand up." he orders.

I climb warily to my feet. He stares at me and his mouth quirks up.

"You're shattered, aren't you?"

I nod, shyly. Flushing.

"Stamina, Miss Chandler." He narrows his eyes at me. "I haven't had my fill of you yet. Hold out your hands in front as if you're praying."

I blink at him. _Praying! Praying for you to go easy on me._

I do as I'm told, as I am now woken up from curiosity of what's next. He takes a cable tie and fastens it around my wrists, tightening the plastic, but not too tight. _Wait a minute... Holy hell! _My eyes fly to his.

"Look familiar?" he asks, unable to conceal his smile.

_Jeez... the plastic cable ties. Restocking at Clayton's! _It all becomes clear. I gape at him as adrenaline spikes through my body anew. _Okay—that's got my attention—I'm fully awake now._

"I have scissors here." he holds a pair for me to see, "I can cut you out of this in a moment."

I try to pull my wrists apart, testing my bonds, and as I do, the plastic bites into my flesh. It's sore, but if I relax my wrists they're fine—the tie is not cutting into my skin.

"Come here." he whispers, taking my hands and leads me over to the four-poster bed. I notice now that it has dark red sheets on it and a shackle at each corner.

He leans down and begins whispering in my ear, "I want more—much, much more."

And my heartbeat starts pounding again, quickly and hard against my chest. _Fuck me already, you beast!_

"But I'll make this quick. You're tired. Hold on to the post." he says.

I frown. _Not on the bed then? _I find I can part my hands as I grasp the ornately carved wooden post.

"Lower." he whispers in my ear. "Good. Don't let go. If you do, I'll spank you. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir." _Take me already dammit!_

"Good."

He stands behind me and grasps my hips, and then quickly lifts me backward so I'm bending forward, holding the post.

"Don't let go, Catherine." he warns again, "I'm going to fuck you hard from behind. The post will support your weight, so hold it tight. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir." I mutter quickly.

"Part your legs." he puts his leg between mine, and holding my hips, he pushes my right leg to the side.

"That's better. After this, I'll let you sleep."

_Sleep? _I'm panting. I'm not thinking of sleep right now.

He reaches up and gently strokes my back. "You have such beautiful skin, Catherine." he breathes as he bends down and kisses me along my spine, gentle featherlight kisses. At the same time, his hand moves around to my front, palming my breasts, and as he does this he traps my nipples between his fingers and tugs them gently.

I stifle my moan as I feel my whole body respond, coming alive once more for him.

He gently bites and sucks at my waist, tugging my nipples, and my hands tighten around the carved post. His hands drop away as I hear the now familiar tear of foil, and he kicks off his jeans.

"You have such a captivating, sexy ass, Catherine Chandler. What I'd like to do to it." his hands smooth and shape each of my buttocks, then his fingers glide down, and he slips two fingers inside me.

"So wet. You never disappoint, Miss Chandler." he whispers, and I hear the wonder in his voice. "Hold tight... this is going to be quick, Catherine."

He grabs my hips and positions himself, and I brace myself for his assault. Very slowly, he eases into me, grabbing my braid and pulling my hair gently... _Oh, the fullness._

He eases out of me slowly, and his other hand grips my hip, holding tight, and then he slams into me, jolting me forward.

"Hold on, Catherine." he groans through clenched teeth.

I grip the post harder and push back against him as he continues his merciless onslaught, again and again, his fingers digging into my hips. My arms are aching, my legs feel uncertain... and I can feel a gathering deep inside of me. _NO!... _And for the first time, I fear my orgasm..._ If I get off, I'll collapse. _

Vincent continues to move roughly against me, in me, his breathing harsh, matching mine, he's moaning...loud. And that's all it takes to take me over the edge as I come apart on him, taking him with me in loud gasping moans and whimpers, cries of pure satisfaction.

He takes me by surprise and collapses to the floor, taking me with him as we pant together in sweet bliss. When sense returns, I'm lying on him. He's on the floor, and I'm lying on top of him, my back to his front, and I'm staring at the ceiling, all postcoital, glowing, shattered. _Oh...the carabiners. _I think absently—I'd forgotten about those being there. Vincent nuzzles my ear, "Hold up your hands." he says softly in pants.

My arms feel like they're made of lead, but I hold them up. He wields the scissors and passes one blade under the plastic.

"I declare this Catherine, open." he breathes, and cuts the plastic. I giggle and rub my wrists as they're freed. I feel his grin.

"That is such a lovely sound." he says wistfully. He sits suddenly, taking me with him so that I'm once more sitting in his lap.

"That's my fault." he says, and shifts me so that he can rub my shoulders and arms. Gently he massages some life back into my limbs.

_What?_

I glance up at him behind me, trying to understand what he means.

"That you don't giggle more often."

"I'm not a great giggler." I mumble sleepily.

"Oh, but when you do, Miss Chandler, 'tis a wonder and joy to behold."

"Very flowery, Mr. Keller." I mutter, trying to keep my eyes open.

His eyes soften, and he smiles. "I'd say you're thoroughly fucked and in need of sleep."

"That wasn't flowery at all." I grumble playfully.

He grins and gently lifts me off him and stands, gloriously naked. I wish momentarily that I were more awake to really appreciate him. Picking up his jeans, he slides them back on, commando.

"Don't want to frighten Sam, or Mrs. Jones for that matter." he mutters, playfully.

_Hmm...they must know what a kinky bastard he is. _The thought preoccupies me.

He stoops to help me to my feet and leads me to the door, on the back of which hangs a gray waffle robe. He patiently dresses me as if I'm a small child. I don't have the strength to lift my arms. When I'm covered and respectable, he leans down and kisses me gently, his mouth quirks up in a smile.

"Bed." he whispers on my lips.

_Oh...no!_

"For sleep." he adds reassuringly when he sees my expression. Suddenly, he scoops me up and carries me curled against his chest to the room down the corridor where earlier today Dr. Greene examined me. My head drops against his chest, I am exhausted. I don't remember ever being this tired before. Pulling back the duvet, he lays me down and, even more surprisingly, climbs in beside me and holds me close.

"Sleep now, gorgeous girl." he whispers, and he kisses my hair.

And before I can make a facetious comment, I'm asleep.

* * *

><p><em><strong>**Well... that was pretty hot lol. I did change it a little bit from the book. I couldn't resist lol. REVIEWS!**<strong>_


	19. Chapter 19

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*WARNING:<strong>** The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, ****graphic sexual content, and DOM/SUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*Extra:<strong>** I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: OMG I love you guys! I hope that these next few chapters help explain some of your questions because I don't want to give anything away lol. If I reveal too much in the Author's Note, then you wont really have the emotion towards the chapter. All I can say is just be patient and read further to spot clues into their relationship. Glad that everyone enjoys the e-mails lol they are my favorite parts of the books too. Lavonce, there are 3 books on FSOG – Fifty Shades of Grey, Fifty Shades Darker, and Fifty Shades Freed – and yes I will be continuing this FF throughout those books too lol. In doing so, this FF will be VERY long, so I hope yal don't get bored with me lol. Thanks so much for your devotion! XOXO!)**

_Italics represent Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 19-<strong>_

Soft lips brush across my temple, leaving sweet tender kisses in their wake. Part of me wants to turn and respond, but mostly I want to stay asleep. I moan and burrow into my pillow.

"Catherine, wake up." Vincent's voice is soft, cajoling.

"No." I groan.

"We have to leave in half an hour for dinner at my parents." He's amused.

I open my eyes reluctantly. It's dusk outside. Vincent is leaning over, gazing at me intently, "Come on, sleepy-head. Get up." He stoops down and kisses me again.

"I've brought you a drink. I'll be downstairs. Don't go back to sleep, or you'll be in trouble." he threatens, but his tone is mild. He kisses me briefly and exits, leaving me blinking sleep from my eyes in the cool, stark room.

I'm refreshed but suddenly nervous. _Holy cow, I'm meeting his folks! _He's just worked me over with a riding crop and trussed me up using a cable tie, which I sold him, for heaven's sake—and I'm going to meet his parents. It will be Tess' first time meeting them, too—at least she'll be there for support. I roll my shoulders. They're stiff. His demands for a personal trainer don't seem so outlandish now. In fact, it's mandatory if I'm to have any hope of keeping up with him.

I climb slowly out of bed and note that my dress is hanging outside the wardrobe and my bra is on the chair. _Where are my panties? _I check beneath the chair. Nothing. Then I remembe—he squirreled them away in the pocket of his jeans. I flush at the memory. _Why hasn't he given me my panties back?_

I steal into the bathroom, bewildered by my lack of underwear.

* * *

><p>While drying myself off after an enjoyable but far too brief shower, I realize he's done this on purpose. He wants me to be embarrassed and ask for my panties back, and he'll either say yes or no. My inner goddess grins at me. <em>Hell...two can play that particular game. <em>Resolving there and then not to ask him for them and not to give him that satisfaction. I shall go meet his parents sans culottes. _Catherine Chandler! _My subconscious chides at me, but I don't want to listen to her—i almost hug myself with glee because I know this will drive him crazy.

Back in the bedroom, I put on my bra, slip into my dress, and climb into my shoes. I remove the braid and hastily brush out my hair, then glance down at the drink he's left. It's pale pink. _What's this? Cranberry and sparkling water. Hmm... _it tastes delicious and quenches my thirst.

Dashing back into the bathroom, I check myself one final time before heading downstairs. Eyes are bright, cheeks slightly flushed, slightly smug look because of my panty plan, and I head downstairs. _Fifteen minutes. Not bad, Cat!_

* * *

><p>Vincent is standing by the panoramic window, wearing the gray flannel pants that I love, the ones that hang in that unbelievably sexy way off his hips, and, of course, a white linen shirt. <em>Doesn't he have any other colors?<em> Frank Sinatra sings softly over the surround-sound speakers. Vincent turns and smiles as I enter. He looks at me expectantly.

"Hi." I say softly, and my smile meets his.

"Hi." he says. "How are you feeling?" His eyes are alight with amusement.

"Good, thanks. You?"

"I feel mighty fine, Miss Chandler."

_He is so waiting for me to say something..._

"Frank. I never figured you for a Sinatra fan." I whisper. He raises his eyebrows at me, his look speculative.

"Electric taste, Miss Chandler." he murmurs, and he paces toward me like a panther until he's standing in front of me. His gaze so intense it literally takes my breath away.

Frank starts crooning... an old song, one of Thomas' favorites, 'Witchcraft'. Vincent leisurely traces his fingertips down my cheek and I feel it all the way down _there_.

"Dance with me." he mutters, his voice husky.

Taking the remote out of his pocket, he turns up the volume and holds out his hand to me, his brown gaze full of promise and longing and humor. He's totally beguiling, and I'm bewitched. I place my hand in his and he grins as he pulls me into his embrace, his arm curling around my waist.

I put my free hand on his shoulder and grin up at him, caught in his infectious, playful mood. He sways once, then we're off. _Boy, can he dance. _We cover the floor, from the window to the kitchen and back again, whirling and turning in time to the music. And he makes it so effortless for me to follow.

We glide around the dining table, over to the piano, backward and forward in front of the glass wall, Seattle twinkling outside, a dark and magical mural to our dance. I can't help my carefree laugh. He grins down at me as the song comes to an end.

"There's no nicer witch than you." he murmurs, then kisses me sweetly, "Well, that's brought some color to your cheeks, Miss Chandler. Thank you for the dance. Shall we go and meet my parents?"

"You're welcome, and yes, I can't wait to meet them." I answer breathlessly.

"Do you have everything you need?" he asks.

"Oh, yes." I respond sweetly.

"Are you sure?"

I nod as nonchalantly as I can manage under his intense, amused scrutiny. His face splits into a huge grin, and he shakes his head.

"Okay. If that's the way you want to play it, Miss Chandler."

He grabs my hand, collects his jacket, and leads me through the foyer to the elevator. Oh, the many faces of Vincent Keller_. Will I ever b__e__ able to understand this mercurial man?_

* * *

><p>I peek up at him in the elevator. He's enjoying a private joke, a trace of a smile flirting with his lovely mouth. I fear that it may be at my expense. <em>What was I thinking? <em>I'm going to see his parents, and I'm not wearing any underwear. My subconscious gives me an unhelpful I-told-you-so expression. In the safety of his apartment, it seemed like a fun, teasing idea. Now, I'm almost outside with _no panties!_ He peers down at me, and it's there, the charge building between us. The amused look disappears from his face and his expression clouds, his eyes dark... _oh my! _

The elevator doors open on the ground floor. Vincent shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts and gestures for me to exit before him in a most gentlemanly manner. _Who's he kidding? _He's no gentleman. _He has my panties!_

Sam arrives and Vincent opens the door for me to get in first. I climb inside, Vincent soon behind me and we sit in silence for most of the drive. From the moment we entered the car, Vincent's mood was almost tangible and seemed to have shifted, the humor dissipating slowly as we head north. He's brooding, staring out the window, and I know he's slipping away from me. _What is he thinking? _I can't ask him. _What can I say in front of Sam?_

"Where did you learn to dance?" I ask tentatively. He turns to gaze at me, his eyes unreadable beneath the intermittent light of the passing street lamps.

"Do you really want to know?" he replies softly.

My heart sinks, and now I don't because I can guess.

"Yes." I say reluctantly.

"Mrs. Robinson was fond of dancing."

_Oh, _my worst suspicions confirmed. She has taught him well and the thought depresses me—there's nothing I can teach him. I have no special skills. "She must have been a good teacher." I nearly choke.

"She was."

My scalp prickles. _Did she have the best of him? Before he became so closed? Or did she bring him out of himself?_ He has such a fun, playful side. I smile involuntary as I recall being in his arms as he spun me around his living room, so unexpected, and he has my panties somewhere.

And then there's the Red Room of Pain. I rub my wrists reflexively—thin strips of plastic will do that to a girl. She taught him all that too, or ruined him, depending on one's point of view. Or perhaps he would have found his way there anyway without the corruption of Mrs. R. I realize, in that moment, that I hate her. I hope that I never meet her because I won't be responsible for my actions if I do. I can't remember ever feeling this passionately bout anyone, especially someone I've never met. Gazing unseeing out the window, I nurse my irrational anger and jealousy.

My mind drifts back to this evening. Given what I understand of his preferences, I think he's been pretty easy on me. _Would I do it again? _I can't even pretend to put up an argument against that. Of course I would, if he asked me—as long as he didn't hurt me and if it's the only way to be with him. That's the bottom line. I want to be with Vincent Keller. My inner goddess sighs with relief. I reach the conclusion that she rarely uses her brain to think but another vital part of her anatomy, and at the moment, it's a rather exposed part.

"Don't." he murmurs.

I frown and turn to look at him.

"Don't what?" _I haven't touched him! _

"Overthink things, Catherine." Reaching out, he grasps my hand, draws it up to his lips, and kisses my knuckles gently. "I had a wonderful afternoon. Thank you." he adds.

And he's with me again. I blink up at him and smile shyly. He's so confusing. I ask a question that's bugging me, "Why did you use a cable tie?"

He grins at me, "It's quick, it's easy, and it's something different for you to feel and experience. I know they're quite brutal, and I do like that in a restraining device." He smiles at me mildly, "Very effective at keeping you in your place."

I flush and glance nervously at Sam, who remains impassive, eyes on the road. _What am I supposed to say to that? _Vincent shrugs innocently, "All part of my world, Catherine." he squeezes my hand and lets go, staring out the window again.

_His world, _indeed... and I want to belong in it, but on his terms? I just don't know. He hasn't mentioned that damned contract. My inner musings do nothing to cheer me. I stare out the window and the landscape has changed. We're crossing a bridge, surrounded by inky darness. The somber night reflects my introspective mood, closing in, suffocating.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asks, staring at me.

I sigh frown, looking down at my hands.

"That bad, huh?" he says.

"I wish I knew what you were thinking." I whisper.

He smirks, "Ditto, babe." he says as Sam whisks us into the night toward Bellevue.

* * *

><p>It's just before eight when the Audi turns into the driveway of a colonial-style mansion. It's breathtaking, even down to the roses around the door. Picture-book perfect.<p>

"Are you ready for this?" Vincent asks as Sam pulls up outside the impressive front door.

I nod, and he gives my hand another reassuring squeeze.

"First for me, too." he whispers, then smiles wickedly. "Bet you wish you were wearing your underwear right now." he teases.

I flush. I'd forgotten my missing panties. Fortunately, Sam has climbed out of the car and is opening my door so he can't hear our exchange. I scowl at Vincent, who grins broadly as I turn and climb out of the car.

Dr. Mary Keller is on the doorstep waiting for us. She looks elegantly sophisticated in a pale blue silk dress. Behind her stands Mr. Keller, I presume, tall, blond, and just as handsome in his own way, as Vincent.

"Catherine, you've met my mother, Mary. This is my dad, Michael."

"Mr. Keller, what a pleasure to meet you." I smile and shake his outstretched hand.

"The pleasure is all mine, Catherine."

"Please, call me Cat."

His hazel eyes are soft and gentle.

"Catherine, how lovely to see you again." Mary wraps me in a warm hug, "Come in, darling."

"Is she here?" I hear a screech from within the house. I glance nervously at Vincent.

"That would be Tori, my little sister." he says almost irritably, but not quite.

There's an undercurrent of affection in his words, the way his voice grows softer and his eyes crinkle as he mentions her name. Vincent obviously adores her. It's a revelation. And she comes barreling down the hall, bright red hair, tall, and curvaceous. She's about my age.

"Catherine! I've heard so much about you." She hugs me hard.

_Holy cow! _I can't help but smile at her boundless enthusiasm. "Cat, please." I murmur as she drags me into the large vestibule. It's all dark wood floors and antique rugs with a sweeping staircase to the second floor.

"He's never brought a girl home before." says Tori, blue eyes bright with excitement.

I glimpse at Vincent, whom is rolling his eyes, and I raise a brow at him. He narrows his eyes at me.

"Tori, calm down." Mary admonishes softly. "Hello, darling." she says as she kisses Vincent on both cheeks. He smiles down at her warmly, and then shakes hands with his father. We all turn and head into the living room. Tori has not let go of my hand. The room is spacious, tastefully furnished in creams, browns, and pale blues—comfortable, understated, and very stylish. Tess and JT are cuddled together on a couch, clutching champagne flutes. Tess bounces up to embrace me, and Tori finally releases my hand.

"Hi, Cat!" Tess beams, "Vincent." she nods curtly to him.

"Tess." he is equally formal with her.

I frown at their exchange. JT grasps me in an all-embracing hug. _What is this, Hug Cat Week?_ This dazzling display of affection—I'm just not used to it. Vincent stands at my side, wrapping his arm around me. Placing his hand on my hip, he spreads out his fingers and pulls me close. Everyone is staring at us. It's unnerving.

"Drinks?" Mr. Keller seems to recover himself, "Prosecco?"

"Please." Vincent and I speak in unison.

_Oh... this is beyond weird. _Tori clasps her hands.

"Aw. You're even saying the same things. I'll get them." Tori scoots out of the room.

I flush scarlet, and seeing Tess sitting with JT, it occurs to me suddenly that the only reason Vincent invited me was because Tess is here. JT probably freely and happily asked Tess to meet his parents. Vincent was trapped—knowing that I would have found out via Tess. I frown at the thought. He's been forced into the invitation. The realization is bleak and depressing. My subconscious nods sagely, a you've-finally-worked-it-out-stupid look on her face.

"Dinner's almost ready." Mary says as she follows Tori out of the room. Vincent frowns as he gazes at me.

"Sit." he commands, pointing to the plush couch, and I do as I'm told, carefully crossing my legs. He sits down beside me but doesn't touch me.

"We were just talking about vacations, Cat." Mr. Keller says kindly. "JT has decided to follow Tess and her family to Barbados for a week."

I glance at Tess, and she grins, her eyes bright and wide. She's delighted._ Tess Vargas, show some dignity! _

"Are you taking a break now that you've finished your degree, Catherine?" Mr. Keller asks.

"I'm actually thinking about going to Georgia for a few days." I reply.

Vincent gapes at me, blinking a couple of times, his expression unreadable. _Oh shit! _I haven't mentioned this to him.

"Georgia?" he murmurs.

"My mother lives there, and I haven't seen her for a while."

"When were you thinking of going?" His voice is low.

"Tomorrow, late evening."

Tori saunters back into the living room and hands us champagne flutes filled with pale pink prosecco.

"Your good health!" Mr. Keller raise his glass. An appropriate toast from a doctor's husband, it makes me smile.

"For how long?" Vincent asks, his voice deceptively soft.

_Great...he's mad._

"I don't know yet. It will depend how my interviews go tomorrow."

His jaw clenches, and Tess gets that interfering look on her face. She smiles over-sweetly.

"Cat deserves a break." she says pointedly at Vincent. _Why is she so antagonistic toward him? What is her problem? _

"You have interviews?" Mr. Keller asks.

"Yes, for internships at two publishers, tomorrow."

"I wish you the best of luck, Catherine." he smiles.

"Dinner is ready." Mary announces.

We all stand. Tess and JT follow Mr. Keller and Tori out of the room. I go to follow, but Vincent clutches my elbow, bringing me to an abrupt halt.

"When were you going to tell me you were leaving?" he asks urgently. His tone is soft, but he's masking his anger.

"I'm not leaving, I'm going to see my mother, and I was only thinking about it."

"What about our arrangement?"

"We don't have an arrangement yet, Vincent."

He narrows his eyes, and then seems to remember himself. Releasing my hand, he takes my elbow and leads me out of the room.

"This conversation is not over." he whispers threateningly as we enter the dining room.

_Oh, crapola! Don't get your panties in a wad, Keller... and give me mine back!_ I glare at him.

* * *

><p>The dining room reminds me of our private dinner at the Heathman. A crystal chandelier hangs over the dark wood table and there's a massive, ornately carved mirror on the wall. The table, covered with crisp white linen tablecloth, is set, with a bowl of pale pink peonies as the centerpiece. It's simply stunning.<p>

We take out places. Mr. Keller is at the head of the table, while I sit at his right hand, and Vincent is seated beside me. Mr. Keller reaches for the opened bottle of red wine and offers some to Tess. Tori takes her seat beside Vincent and, grabbing his hand, squeezes it tightly. Vincent smiles warmly at her.

"Where did you meet, Cat?" Tori asks him.

"She interviewed me for the WSU student newspaper."

"Which Tess edits." I add, hoping to steer the conversation away from me. Tori beams at Tess, seated opposite next to JT, and they start talking about the student newspaper.

"Wine, Cat?" Mr. Keller asks.

"Please." I smile at him. Mr. Keller rises to fill the rest of the glasses. I peek up at Vincent, and he turns to look at me, his head cocked to one side, "What?" he asks.

"Please don't be mad at me." I whisper.

"I'm not mad at you."

I stare at him. He sighs. "Yes, I'm mad at you." he says, closing his eyes briefly.

"Palm-twitchingly mad?" I ask nervously.

"What are you two whispering about?" Tess interjects.

I flush, and Vincent glares at her in a butt-out-of-this-Vargas kind of way. Even Tess wilts under his glare.

"Just about my trip to Georgia." I say sweetly, hoping to diffuse their mutual hostility.

Tess smiles, a wicked gleam in her eye, "How was Patrick when you went to the bar with him on Friday?"

_Holy fuck, Tess! _I widen my eyes at her. _What is she doing?! _She widens her eyes back at me, and I realize she's trying to make Vincent jealous. _How little she knows. _I thought I'd got away with this.

"He was fine." I murmur.

Vincent leans over.

"Palm-twitchingly mad." he whispers, "Especially now." His tone is quiet and deadly.

_Oh no... _I squirm.

Mary reappears carrying two plates, followed by a pretty young woman with blond pigtails, dressed smartly in pale blue, carrying a try of plates. Her eyes immediately find Vincent's in the room. She blushes and gazes at him from under her long mascara-covered lashes. _What?!_

Somewhere in the house the phone starts ringing.

"Excuse me." Mr. Keller rises again and exits.

"Thank you, Maria." Mary says gently, frowning as Mr. Keller exits. "Just leave the tray on the console." Maria nods, and with another furtive glance at Vincent she leaves.

So the Kellers have staff, and the staff are eyeing up _my _would-be Dominant. Can this evening get any worse? I scowl at my hands in my lap.

Mr. Keller returns.

"Call for you, darling. It's the hospital." he says to Mary.

"Please start, everyone." Mary smiles as she hands me a plate and leaves.

It smell delicious—chorizo and scallops with roasted red peppers and shallots, sprinkled with fly-leaf parsley. And in spite of the fact that my stomach is churning from Vincnet's veiled threats, the surreptitious glances from pretty little Miss Pigtails and the debacle of my missing underwear, I'm starving. I flush as I realize it's the physical effort of this afternoon that's given me such an appetite.

Moments later Mary returns, her brow furrowed. Mr. Keller cocks his head to one side... like Vincent.

"Everything okay?" he asks Mary.

"Another measles case." Mary sighs.

"Oh no."

"Yes, a child. The fourth case this month. If only people would get their kids vaccinated." She shakes her head sadly, and then smiles. "I'm so glad our children never went through that. They never caught anything worse than chicken pox, thank goodness. Poor JT." she says as she sits down, smiling indulgently at her son. JT frowns mid-chew and squirms uncomfortably.

"Vincent and Tori were lucky. They got it so mildly, only a spot to share between them."

Tori giggles, and Vincent rolls his eyes.

"So, did you catch the Mariners game, dad?" JT's clearly keen to move the conversation on.

My mind is working furiously. _Damn Tess, what game is she playing? Will he punish me?_ I quail at the thought. I haven't signed that stupid contract yet anyways. Perhaps I won't. Perhaps I'll stay in Georgia where he can't reach me.

"How are you settling into your new apartment, dear?" Mary asks politely.

I'm grateful for her question, distracting me from my discordant thoughts, and I tell her about our move.

* * *

><p>As we finish our starters, Maria appears, and not for the first time. I wish I felt able to put my hands freely on Vincent just to let her know—he may be fifty shades of fucked up, but he's mine. She proceeds to clear the table, brushing rather too closely to Vincent for my liking. Fortunately, he seems oblivious to her, but my inner goddess is smoldering and not in a good way.<p>

Tess and Tori are waxing lyrical about Paris.

"Have you been to Paris, Cat?" Tori asks innocently, distracting me from my jealous reverie.

"No, but I'd love to go." I know I'm the only one at the table who has never left the USA.

"We honeymooned in Paris." Mary smiles at Michael, who grins back at her. It's almost embarrassing to witness. They obviously love each other deeply, and I wonder for a brief moment what it must be like to grow up with both one's parents in situ.

"It's a beautiful city." Tori agrees. "In spite of the Parisians. Vincent, you should take Cat to Paris." Tori states firmly.

"I think Catherine would prefer London." Vincent says softly.

_Oh... he remembered! _He places his hand on my knee—his fingers traveling up my thigh. My whole body tightens in response. _No...not here, not now! _I flush and shift, trying to pull away from him. His hand clamps down on my thigh, stilling me. I reach for my wine in desperation.

Little Miss Pigtails returns, all coy glances and swaying hips, with our entrees: beef Wellington, I think. Fortunately, she gives us our plates and then leaves, although she lingers handing Vincent his. He looks quizzically at me as I watch her close the dining room door.

"So what was wrong with the Parisians?" JT asks Tori. "Didn't they take to your winsome ways?"

"Ugh, no they didn't. And Monsieur Floubert, the ogre I was working for, he was such a domineering tyrant."

I splutter into my wine.

"Catherine, are you okay?" Vincent asks solicitously, taking his hand off my thigh.

Humor has returned to his voice. _Oh, thank heavens! _When I nod, he pats my back gently, and only removes his hand when he knows I've recovered.

* * *

><p>Over our dessert of lemon syllabub, Tori regales us with her exploits in Paris, lasping at one point into fluent French. We all stare at her, and she stares back puzzled, until Vincent tells her in equally fluent French what she's done, whereupon she bursts into a fit of giggles. She has a very infectious laugh, and soon we're all in stitches.<p>

I sigh and glance up at Fifty Shades. I could stare at him forever. I blush at the direction of my thoughts of him. He peers down at me and raises his hand to pull at my chin.

"Don't bite your lip." he murmurs huskily. "I want to do that."

Mary and Tori clear our dessert glasses and head to the kitchen, while Mr. Keller, Tess, and JT discuss the merits of solar panels in Washington State. Vincent, feigning interest in their conversation, puts his hand once more on my knee, and his fingers travel up my thigh. My breathing hitches and I press my thighs together in a bid to halt his progress. I can see him smirk.

"Shall I give you a tour of the grounds?" Vincent asks me quite openly.

I know I'm meant to say yes, but I don't trust him. Before I can object, however, he's on his feet and holding his hand out to me. I place my hand in his, and I feel all the muscles clench deep in my belly, responding to his dark, hungry gaze.

"Excuse me." I say to Mr. Keller, and follow Vincent out of the dining room.

He leads me through the hallway and into the kitchen, where Tori and Mary are stacking the dishwasher. Miss Pigtails is nowhere to be seen.

"I'm going to show Catherine the backyard." Vincent says innocently to his mother. She waves us out with a smile as Tori heads back to the dining room.

* * *

><p>We step out onto a gray flagstone patio area lit by recessed lights in the rock. There are shrubs in gray stone tubs and a chic metal table and chairs aet up in one corner. Vincnet walks past those, up some steps, and onto a vast lawn that leads down to the bay... <em>oh my—it's beautiful. <em>Seattle twinkles on the horizon and the cool, bright May moon etches a sparkling silver path across the water toward a jetty where two boats are moored. Beside the jetty stands a boathouse. It is so picturesque, so peaceful. I stand and gape for a moment.

Vincent pulls me behind him, and my heels sink into the soft grass.

"Stop, please." I'm stumbling in his wake. He stops and gazes at me, his expression unfathomable.

"My heels. I need to take my shoes off."

"Don't bother." he says, and he bends down and wraps his arms around my knees and throws me over his shoulder. I squeal loudly with shocked surprise, and he gives me a ringing slap on my behind.

"Keep your voice down." he growls.

_Oh no... this is not good. _My subconscious is quaking at the knees. He's mad about something—could be Patrick, Georgia, no panties, biting my lip. _Jeez, he's easy to rile._

"Where are we going?" I breathe.

"Boathouse." he snaps. _Yup, he's pissed._

I hang on to his hips as I'm tipped upside down, and he strides purposefully in the moonlight across the lawn.

"Why?" I sound breathless, bouncing on his shoulder.

"I need to be alone with you."

"What for?"

"Because I'm going to spank then fuck you."

"Why?" I whimper softly.

"You know why." he hisses.

"I thought you were an in-the-moment kind of guy?" I plead breathlessly.

"Catherine, I'm in the moment, trust me."

_Holy fuck!_

* * *

><p><em><strong>**Okay, so don't filp out on me lol the next chapter is not bad at all lol. It may seem like it will be because of how this one ended, but I promise it's not bad AT ALL!**<strong>_


	20. Chapter 20

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*WARNING:<strong>** The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, ****graphic sexual content, and DOM/SUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*Extra:<strong>** I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: A lot will be revealed into the relationship this chapter. In the book, this chapter was truly a swoon-rific chapter for me and it made my heart flutter. I hope you all like it! XOXO! Thanks for the reviews! Unfortunately, the first book is almost over. Only has 26 chapters... BUT, like I said, I WILL continue this through the other books as well.)**

_Italics represent Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 20-<strong>_

Vincent bursts through the wooden door of the boathouse and pauses to flick on some switches. Flourescents ping and buzz in sequence as harsh white light floods the large wooden building. From my upside-down view, I can see an impressive cruiser in the dock floating gently on the dark water, but I only get a brief look before he's carrying me up some wooden stairs to the room above.

He pauses at the doorway and flips another switch—halogens, this time, that are softer, on a dimmer—and we're in an attic room with sloping ceilings. It's decorated with a nautical New England theme: navy blues and creams with dashes of red. The furnishings are sparse, just a couple of couches are all I can see.

Vincent finally sets me to my feet. I don't have time to really examine my surroundings—my eyes can't leave him. I'm mesmerized... watching him like one would watch a rare and dangerous predator, waiting for him to strike. His breathing is harsh, but then again, he's just carried me across the lawn and up a flight of stairs. Brown eyes blaze with anger, need, and pure unadulterated lust.

_Holy shit! _I could spontaneously combust from his look alone.

"Please don't hit me." I whisper, pleading.

His brow furrows, his eyes widening. He blinks twice.

"I don't want you to spank me, not here, not now. Please, don't."

His mouth slightly parts in surprise, and beyond brave, I tentatively reach up and run my fingers down his cheek, along the edge of his sideburn, to the stubble on his chin. It's a curious mixture of soft and prickly. Slowly closing his eyes, he leans his face into my touch, and his breath hitches in his throat. Reaching up with my other hand, I run my fingers into his hair. I love his hair. His soft moan is barely audible, and when he opens his eyes, his look is wary, like he doesn't understand what I'm doing.

Stepping forward so I'm flush against him, I pull gently on his hair, bringing his mouth to mine, and I kiss him, forcing my tongue between his lips and into his mouth. He groans, and his arms embrace me, pulling me to him. His hands find their way into my hair, and he kisses me back, hard and possessive. His tongue and mine twist and turn together, consuming each other. He tastes so good.

He pulls back suddenly, our collective breathing ragged and mingling. My hands drop to his arms, and he glares down at me.

"What are you doing to me?" he whispers, confused.

I lean my forehead against his as I look up into his eyes. "Kissing you." I whisper.

"You said no."

"What?" _No to what?_

"At the dinner table, with your legs."

_Oh... that's what this is all about._

"But we were at your parents' dining table." I stare up at him, completely bewildered.

"No one's ever said no to me before. And it's so—_hot_!" he murmurs. His eyes widen, filled with wonder and lust. It's a heady mix. I swallow instinctively. His hand moves down to my behind. He pulls me sharply against him, against his erection.

_Sweet Jesus!_

"You're mad and turned on because I said no?" I breathe, astonished.

"I'm mad because you never mentioned Georgia to me. I'm mad because you went drinking with that guy who tried to seduce you when you were drunk and who left you when you were ill with an almost complete stranger. What kind of friend does that? And I'm mad and aroused because you closed your legs on me."

His eyes glitter dangerously, and he's slowly inching up the hem of my dress. "Catherine... I want you, and I want you now. And if you're not going to let me spank you—which you deserve—I'm going to fuck you on the couch this minute, quickly, for my pleasure, not yours."

At this point, my dress is barely covering my naked behind. He moves suddenly so that his hand is cupping my sex, and one of his fingers sinks slowly into me. His other arm holds me firmly in place around my waist. I suppress my moan.

"This is mine." he whispers aggressively. "All mine. Do you understand?" he eases his finger in and out as he gazes down at me, gauging my reaction, his eyes burning.

"Yes, yours." I breathe as my desire, hot and heavy, surges through my bloodstream, affecting...everything. My nerve endings, my breathing. My heart is racing, trying to escape my chest, the blood thrumming in my ears.

Then suddenly, he moves, doing several things at once: withdrawing his fingers, leaving me wanting more, unzipping his fly, and gently laying me back onto the couch, laying on top of me.

"Hands on your head." he commands softly as he kneels, pushing my legs wider, and reaches into his pocket for a foil packet, gazing down at me, his expression dark, before shrugging off his jacket so it falls to the floor. He rolls the condom on, and all I can do is pant even harder by the sight of him. Anticipation floods my body as I place my hands on my head, and I know it's so I won't touch him. I'm so turned on right now. I feel my hips moving already up to meet him—wanting him inside me, like this—rough and hard. _Oh... the anticipation!_

"We don't have long. This will be quick, and remember it's for me, not you. Do you understand? Don't get off or I'll spank you." he says through clenched teeth. _Oh, this is so hot! You could spank me with that riding crop. _My breath hitches as I nod. Then his demand hits me. _How do I stop myself from getting off? Oh, shit!_

With one swift thrust, he fills me. I groan loudly, gutturally, and revel in the fullness of his possession. He puts his hands on mine, intertwining our fingers and pushing my hands above my head and into the plush cushion of the couch. His elbows hold my arms down, and his legs pinion me. I'm trapped, and I like it... love it even. He's everywhere, overwhelming me, almost suffocating. But it's heavenly, too; this is my power, this is what I do to him and it's hedonistic, triumphant feeling.

He moves quick and furiously inside me, his breathing harsh, echoed by low groans at my ear, and my body responds, melting around him. _I mustn't get off! _No. But I'm meeting his thrusts with my own, a perfect counterpoint. He's just too irresistible. Abruptly, and all too soon, he rams into me and stills as he finds his release, air hissing through his teeth. He relaxes momentarily, so I feel his entire, delicious weight on me.

I'm not ready to let him go, my body craving relief, but he's so heavy, and in that moment, I can't thrust against him. All of a sudden, he withdraws, leaving me aching and hungry for more. He glares down at me.

"Don't touch yourself. I want you frustrated. That's what you do to me by not talking to me, by denying me what's mine." His eyes blaze anger again.

_Asshole!_

I nod, panting. He stands and removes the condom, knotting it at the end, and tosses it in a nearby waist basket. I gaze at him, my breathing still erratic, and involuntarily I squeeze my thighs together, trying to find some relief. Vincent does up his fly and runs his hand through his hair as he reaches down to collect is jacket. He turns back to gaze down at me, his expression softer.

"We'd better get back to the house." he whispers.

I sit up, a little unsteadily, dazed.

"Here you may want to put these on."

_Oh, now you give them back? Asshole!_

He hands me my panties and, without grinning, I take them. But inside I know, I've taken a punishment fuck but gained a small victory over the panties. My inner goddess nods in agreement, a satisfied grin over her face: _You didn't have to ask for them._

"Vincent!" Tori shouts from the floor below.

He turns and raises his brows at me, "Just in time. Christ, she can be really irritating."

I scowl at him, hastily restore my panties to their rightful place, and stand with as much dignity as I can muster in my just-fucked state. Quickly I attempt to smooth my just-fucked hair.

"Up here, Tori." he calls down. "Well, Miss Chandler, I feel better for that—but I still want to spank you." he says softly.

"I don't believe I deserve it, Mr. Keller, especially after tolerating your unprovoked attack."

"Unprovoked? You kissed me." He tries his best to look wounded.

I purse my lips, "It was attack as the best form of defense."

"Defense against what?"

"You and your twitchy palm." I hiss.

He cocks his head to one side and smiles at me as Tori comes clattering up the stairs. "But it was tolerable?" he asks softly.

I flush, "Barely." I snap in a whisper, but I can't help but smirk.

"Oh, there you are." Tori beams at us.

"I was showing Catherine around." Vincent holds his hand out to me, his brown eyes intense. I put my hand into his, and he gives it a soft squeeze.

"Tess and JT are about to leave. Can you believe those two? They can't seem to keep their hands off each other." Tori feigns disgust and looks from Vincent to me. "What have you been doing up here?"

_Jeez, she's forward. _I blush scarlet.

"Showing Catherine my rowing trophies." Vincent says without missing a beat, completely poker-faced. "Let's go say good-bye to Tess and JT."

_Rowing trophies? Really? _He pulls me gently in front of him, and as Tori turns to go, he swats my behind. I gasp in surprise.

"I will do it again, Catherine...and soon." he threatens quietly close to my ear, then he pulls me into an embrace, my back to his front, and kisses my hair.

* * *

><p>Back in the house, Tess and JT are making their farewells to Mary and Michael. Tess hugs me hard.<p>

"I need to speak to you about antagonizing Vincent." I hiss quietly in her ear as she embraces me.

"He needs antagonizing: then you can see what he's really like. Be careful, Cat—he's so controlling." she whispers. "See you later."

_I KNOW WHAT HE'S REALLY LIKE—YOU DON'T! _I scream in my head. I'm fully aware that her actions come from a good place, but sometimes she just oversteps boundaries, and right now, she's so far over that she's in the neighboring state. I scowl at her, and she pokes her tongue out at me, making me smile unwillingly. Playful Tess is novel: must be JT's influence. We wave them off at the doorway, and Vincent turns to me, "We should go, too—you have interviews tomorrow."

Tori embraces me warmly as we say our good-byes. "We never thought that he would find anyone!" she gushes.

I flush, and Vincent rolls his eyes again. I purse my lips. _Why can he do that when I can't? _I want to roll my eyes back at him, but I do not dare, not after his threat in the boathouse.

"Take care of yourself, Cat dear." Mary says kindly.

Vincent, embarrassed or frustrated by the lavish attention I'm receiving from the Kellers, grabs my hand and pulls me to his side.

"Let's not frighten her away or spoil her with too much affection." Vincent grumbles. Vincent, sto teasing. I surreptitiously watch their interaction. It's obvious Mary adores him with a mother's unconditional love. He bends and kisses her stiffly.

"Mother." he says, and there's an undercurrent in his voice—_reverence maybe?_

"Mr. Keller—good-bye and thank you for a lovely evening and for dinner." I hold out my hand to him, and, surprisingly, he grabs it and pulls me in for a hug, too!

"Please, call me Michael. I do hope we see you again very soon, Catherine."

* * *

><p>Our farewells said, Vincent leads me to the car, where Sam is waiting. <em>Has he been here the whole time? <em>Sam opens my door, and I slide into the back of the Audi.

I feel some of the tension leaving my shoulders. _Damn, what a day! _I'm exhausted, physically and emotionally. After a brief conversation with Sam, Vincent clambers into the car beside me. He turns to face me. "Well, it seems my family likes you too, Catherine." he murmurs.

_Too?! I'm so confused..._

The depressing thought about how I came to be invited pops unbidden and very unwelcome into my head. Sam starts the car and heads away from the circle of light in the driveway to the darkness of the road. I gaze at Vincent, and he's staring at me too.

"What?" he asks, his voice quiet.

I flounder momentarily._No—I'll tell him. _He's always complaining that I don't talk to him.

"I think that you felt trapped into bringing me to meet your parents." My voice is soft and hesitant. "If JT hadn't asked Tess, you'd never have asked me." I can't see his face in the dark, but he tilts his head, gaping at me.

"Catherine, I'm glad that you've met my parents. Why are you so filled with self-doubt? It never ceases to amaze me. You're such a strong, self-contained young woman, but you have such negative thoughts about yourself. If I hadn't wanted you to meet them, you wouldn't be here. Is that how you were feeling the whole time you were there?"

_Oh! He wanted me there—_and it's a revelation. He doesn't seem uncomfortable answering me as he would if he were hiding the truth. He seems genuinely pleased that I'm here... a warm glow spreads slowly through my veins. He shakes his head and reaches for my hand. I glance nervously at Sam.

"Don't worry about Sam. Talk to me."

I shrug. "Yes. I thought that. And another thing, I only mentioned Georgia because Tess was talking about Barbados. I haven't made up my mind."

"Do you want to go and see your mother?"

"Yes." I whisper.

He looks oddly at me, like he's having some internal struggle. "Can I come with you?" he asks eventually.

_What!_

"Erm...I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"I was hoping for a break from all of this... intensity, to try to think things through."

He stares at me. "I'm too intense?"

I burst out laughing, "That's putting it mildly!"

In the light of the passing street lamps, I see his lips quirk up. "Are you laughing at me, Miss Chandler?"

"I wouldn't dare, Mr. Keller." I reply with mock seriousness.

"I think you dare, and I think you do laugh at me, frequently."

"You are quite funny." I whisper.

"Funny?"

"Oh yes."

"Funny peculiar? Or funny ha-ha?" he asks.

"Oh... a lot of one and some of the other."

"Which way more?"

"I'll leave you to figure that out." I murmur with a smile.

"I'm not sure if I can figure anything out around you, Catherine." he says sardonically, and then continues quietly, "What do you need to think about in Georgia?"

"Us." I whisper.

He stares at me, impassive. "You said you'd try."

"I know."

"Are you having second thoughts?" he whispers, his tone sounds disappointed.

"Possibly." I reply.

He shifts as if uncomfortable. "Why?" he asks low, yet soft.

_Holy crap! How did this suddenly become such an intense and meaningful conversation?_ It's been sprung on me, like an exam that I'm not prepared for. _What do I say? Because I think I love you, and you just see me as a toy. Because I can't touch you, because I'm too frightened to show you any affection in case you flinch or tell me off or worse—beat me? What can I say? _

I stare momentarily out of the window. The car is heading back across the bridge. We are both shrouded in darkness, masking our thoughts and feelings, but we don't need the night for that.

"Why, Catherine?" Vincent presses me for an answer.

I shrug, trapped. I don't want to lose him. In spite of all his demands, his need to control, his scary vices, I have never felt as alive as I do when I'm with him. It's a thrill to be sitting here beside him. He's so unpredictable, sexy, smart, and funny. But his moods... _oh—and he wants to hurt me._ He says he'll think about my reservations, but it still scares me. I close my eyes. _What can I say?_ Deep down I would just like more... more affection, more playful Vincent, more... love.

He squeezes my hand. "Please don't shut me out, Catherine. Talk to me. I don't want to lose you. This last week..."

We're coming near to the end of the bridge, and the road is once more bathed in the neon light of the street lamps so his face is intermittently in the light and the dark. And it's such a fitting metaphor. This man, whom I once thought of as a romantic hero, a brave shining white knight—or the dark knight, as he said. He's not a hero; he's a man with serious, deep emotional flaws, and he's dragging me into the dark. _Can I not guide him into the light?_

"I still want more." I whisper.

"I know." he sighs, "I'll try."

I blink up at him, and he relinquishes my hand and pulls at my chin, releasing my trapped lip.

"For you, Catherine, I will try." He's radiating sincerity. And that's my cue. I unbuckle my seat belt, reach across, and clamber into his lap, taking him completely by surprise. Wrapping my arms around his head, I kiss him, long and hard, and in a nanosecond, he's responding.

"Stay with me tonight." he breathes. "If you go away, I won't see you all week. Please."

"Yes." I acquiesce. "And I'll try, too. I'll sign your contract." And it's a spur-of-the-moment decision.

He gazes down at me, "Sign after Georgia. Think about it. Think about it hard, Catherine."

"I will." I breathe and we sit in silence for a mile or two.

"You really should wear your seat belt." Vincent whispers disapprovingly into my hair, but he makes no move to shift me away from him. In fact, he's holding me close to him.

I nuzzle up against him, eyes closed, my nose at his throat and I'm drinking in his sexy Vincent-and-spiced-musky-bodywash fragrance, my head on his shoulder. I let my mind drift, and I allow myself to fantasize that he loves me. Oh, and it feels so real, tangible almost, and a small part of my nasty harpy subconscious acts completely out of character and _dares to hope. _I'm careful not to touch his chest but just snuggle in his arms as he holds me tightly.

* * *

><p>All too soon, I'm torn from my impossible daydream.<p>

"We're home." Vincent murmurs, and it's such a tantalizing sentence, full of so much potential.

_Home... with Vincent. _Except his apartment is an art gallery, not a home.

Sam opens the door for us, and I thank him shyly, aware that he's been within earshot of our conversation, but his kind smile is reassuring and gives nothing away. Once out of the car, Vincent assess me critically. _Oh no... what have I done now?_

"Why don't you have a jacket?" he frowns as he shrugs out of his and drapes it over my shoulders. Relief washes through me, "It's in my new car." I reply sleepily, yawning.

He smirks at me. "Tired, Miss Chandler?"

"Yes, Mr. Keller. That, I am." I feel bashful under his teasing scrutiny. Nevertheless, I feel an explanation is in order. "I've been prevailed upon in ways I never thought possible today."

"Well, if you're really unlucky, I may prevail upon you some more." he promises as he takes my hand and leads me into the building. _Holy shit!... Again?!_

I gaze up at him in the elevator. I've assumed he'd like me to sleep with him, and then again, I remember that he doesn't sleep with anyone, although he has with me a few times. I frown, and abruptly his gaze darkens. He reaches up and grasps my chin, freeing my lip from my teeth.

"One day I'll fuck you in this elevator, Catherine, but right now you're tired—so I think we should stick to a bed."

Bending down, he clamps his teeth around my lower lip and pulls gently. I melt against him, and my breathing stops as my insides unfurl with longing need. I reciprocate, fastening my teeth over his top lip, teasing him, and he groans. When the elevator doors open, he clasps my hand and tugs me into the foyer, through the double doors, and into the hallway.

"Do you need a drink or anything?" he asks.

"No."

"Good. Let's go to bed."

I raise my eyebrows. "You're going to settle for plain old vanilla?"

He cocks his head to one side, "Nothing plain or old about vanilla—it's a very intriguing flavor." he breathes.

"Since when?" I ask. _Ooh, I love where this is going._

"Since last Saturday. Why? Were you hoping for something more exotic?"

My inner goddess pops her head above the parapet.

"Oh no. I've had enough exotic for one day." My inner goddess pouts at me, failing miserably to hide her disappointment.

"Sure? We cater for all tastes here, Catherine. At least thirty-one flavors." He grins at me lasciviously.

"I've noticed." I reply dryly.

He shakes his head, "Come on, Miss Chandler, you have a big day tomorrow. Sooner you're in my bed, the sooner you're fucked, and then of course you can sleep."

"My, my, Mr. Keller. You are a born romantic."

"Miss Chandler, you have a smart mouth. I may have to subdue it some way. Come on." He leads me down the hallway into his bedroom and kicks the door closed.

"Hands in the air." he commands.

"You sound like a cop." I retort playfully, but I oblige and raise my hands up above my head. He smiles a full, white toothed smile that melts my heart every time I see it. And in one breathtakingly swift move he removes my dress like a magician, grasping it at the hem and pulling it smoothly and fleetly over my head.

"Ta-da!" he says playfully.

I giggle and play along as I applaud him politely. He bows gracefully, grinning. _How can I resist him when he's like this? _He places my dress on the lone chair beside his chest of drawers.

"And for your next trick?" I prompt, teasing.

"Oh, my dear Miss Chandler. Get into my bed," he growls, "and I will show you."

"Do you think that for once I should play hard to get?" I ask coquettishly.

His eyes widen with surprise, and I see a glimmer of excitement. "Well... the door's closed. Not sure how you're going to avoid me." he says sardonically. "I think it's a done deal."

"But I'm a good negotiator."

"So am I." He stares down at me, but as he does, his expression changes, confusion washes over him and the atmosphere in the room shifts abruptly, tensing. "Don't you want to fuck?" he asks.

"No." I breathe.

"Oh." He frowns.

_Okay, here goes...deep breath._

"I don't want to fuck because... I want you to make love to me."

He stills and stares at me blankly. His expression darkens. _Oh shit... this doesn't look good. _

_Give him a minute! _My subconscious snaps at me.

"Cat, I..." He runs his hands through his hair. _Two hands! Jeez, he must be bewildered. _

"I thought we did?" he says eventually.

I blink a few times as I pause briefly. I glance back up at him as I lick my lips, "But, I want to touch you." I murmur.

He takes an involuntary step back from me, his expression for a moment seems fearful, and then he reins it in.

"Please." I whisper.

He finally recovers himself, "Oh no, Miss Chandler, you've had enough concessions from me this evening. And I'm saying no."

"No?"

"No."

_Oh... I can't argue with that... or can I?_

"Look, you're tired, I'm tired. Let's just go to bed." he says, watching me carefully.

"So touching is a hard limit for you?"

"Yes. This is old news."

"Why can't you tell me why?" I snap.

"Oh, Catherine, please. Just drop it for now." he muttersexasperated.

I swallow hard. _I'm not backing down from this! _"Vincent, please. It's important to me."

Again he runs both hands through his hair, and he utters an oath beneath his breath. Turning on his heel, he heads for the chest of drawers, pulls out a T-shirt, and throws it at me. I catch it, bemused.

"Put that on and get your ass in bed." he snaps, irritated.

I frown but decide to humor him. Turning my back, I quickly remove my bra, pulling the T-shirt on as hastily as I can to cover my nakedness. I leave my panties on; I haven't worn them for most of the evening.

"I need the bathroom." My voice is a whisper, more to myself that towards him.

He frowns, bemused. "Now you're asking permission?"

"Er...no."

"Catherine, you know where the bathroom is. Today, at this point in our strange arrangement, you don't need my permission to use it." He can't hide his irritation. He shrugs out of his shirt, and I scoot into the bathroom.

* * *

><p>I stare at myself in the mirror, shocked that I still look the same. After all that I've done today, it's still the same ordinary girl gaping back at me. <em>What did you expect? That you'd grow horns and a little pointy tail? <em>My subconscious snaps at me. _And what the hell are you doing? Touching his hard limit. Too soon, you idiot. He needs to walk before he can run. _My subconscious is furious, Medusa-like in her anger, hair flying, her hands clenched around her her face like in Edvard Munch's _The Scream. _I ignore her, but she won't climb back into her box. _You are making him mad—think about all that he's said, all he's conceded. _I scowl at my reflection. I need to be able to show him affection—then perhaps he can reciprocate.

I shake my head, grabbing Vincent's toothbrush. My subconscious is right, of course. I'm rushing him. He's not ready and neither am I. We are balanced on the delicate seesaw and it tips and sways between us. We both need to edge closer to the middle. I just hope neither of us falls off in our attempt to do so. This is all so quick. Maybe I need some distance. Georgia seems more appealing to me now than ever. As I begin brushing my teeth, he knocks.

"Come in." I splutter through a mouthful of toothpaste.

Vincent stands in the doorway, his Pjs hanging off his hips in that delicious way that makes every little cell in my body stand up and take notice. He's bare-chested, and I think I literally drool. _Oh my God! This man is fine! And he's mine. _Well, sort of.

He gazes at me impassively, then smirks and comes to stand beside me. Our eyes lock in the mirror, brown to green. I finish with his toothbrush, rinse it off, and hand it to him, my look never leaving his. Wordlessly, he takes the toothbrush from me and puts it in his mouth. I smirk back at him, and his eyes are suddenly dancing with humor.

"Do feel free to borrow my toothbrush." his tone is gently mocking.

"Thank you... _Sir." _I smile sweetly, and I leave, heading back to bed.

A few minutes later he joins me.

"You know this is not how I saw tonight panning out." he mutters petulantly.

"Imagine if I said to you that you couldn't touch me." I whisper, crossing my arms. He clambers onto the bed and sits cross-legged.

"Catherine, I've told you. Fifty shades. I had a rough start in life—you don't want that shit in your head. Why would you?"

"Because I want to know you better." I murmur.

"You know me well enough."

"How can you say that?" I struggle up onto my knees, facing him. He rolls his eyes at me, frustrated.

"You're rolling your eyes. Last time I did that, I was punished."

"Oh, I'd like to put you there again."

_Hmm... _Inspiration hits me.

"Tell me and you can."

"What?"

"You heard me." I snap.

"You're bargaining with me?" His voice resonates with astonished disbelief.

I nod. _Yes...this is the way._

"Negotiating."

"It doesn't work that way, Catherine."

"Okay. Tell me, and I'll roll my eyes at you."

He laughs, and I get a rare glimpse of carefree Vincent. I've not seen him for a while. He sobers.

"Always so keen and eager for information." He gazes at me speculatively. After a moment, he gracefully climbs off the bed. "Don't go away." he says and exits the room.

Trepidation lances through me, and I hug myself._ What's he doing?_ Does he have some evil plan? Suppose he returns with a cane, or some weird kinky implement? _Holy shit, what will I do then?_ When he does return, he's holding something small in his hands. I can't quite make out what exactly it is, and I'm burning with curiosity.

"When's your first interview tomorrow?" he asks softly.

"Two."

A slow, wicked grin spreads across his face. "Good." he says softly. And before my eyes, he subtly changes. He's harder, intractable..._HOT! _This is Dominant Vincent.

"Get off the bed. Stand over here." he points to beside the bed, and I scramble up and off in double time. He stares intently down at me, his eyes glittering with promise. "Trust me?" he asks.

I nod. He holds out his hand, and in his palm are two shiny silver balls linked with a thick black thread.

"These are new." he says emphatically. I look questioningly up at him.

"I'm going to put these inside you, and then spank you, not for punishment, but for your pleasure and mine." He pauses, gauging my wide-eyed reaction.

_Inside me?! _I gasp, and all the muscles deep in my belly clench. My inner goddess is doing the dance of the seven veils.

"Then we'll fuck, and if you're still awake... I'll impart some information about my formative years. Agreed?"

He's actually asking me for my permission! Breathlessly, I nod. I'm incapable of speech.

"Good girl. Open your mouth."

_Mouth?!_

"Wider."

I comply and very gently he puts the balls in my mouth.

"They need lubrication. Suck." he orders, his voice soft.

The balls are cold, smooth, surprisingly heavy, and metallic tasting. My dry mouth pools with saliva as my tongue explores the unfamiliar objects. Vincent's gaze does not leave mine. _Holy hell, this is turning me on—BIG TIME! _I squirm.

"Keep still, Catherine." he warns. "Stop." he tugs them from my mouth. Moving toward the bed, he throws the duvet aside and sits down on the edge.

"Come here." he whispers.

I stand before him.

"Now turn around, bend down, and grab your ankles." His voice is soft, sensual. His eyes matching his tone. I want him... I NEED HIM! Here... now.

I blink at him, and his expression darkens.

"Don't hesitate." he admonishes me softly, an undercurrent in his voice, and he pops the balls into his mouth. _Fuck! This is sexier than the toothbrush! _I follow his orders immediately. _Jesus, can I even touch my ankles? _Seems that I indeed can, with ease. The T-shirt slides up my back, exposing my behind. Thank heavens I have retained my panties, but I suspect I won't for long.

He places his hand reverently on my backside and very softly caresses it with his whole hand. With my eyes open, I can see his legs from between mine, nothing else. I close my eyes tightly as he gently moves my panties to the side and slowly runs his finger up and down my sex. My body braces itself in a heady mix of wild anticipation and arousal. He slides one finger inside me, and he circles it deliciously slowly. _Oh, it feels so good._ I moan.

His breathing halts and I hear him gasp as he repeats the motion. He withdraws his finger and very slowly inserts the objects, one slow, delicious ball at a time. _FUCK...ME! _They're body tempature, warmed by our collective mouths. It's a curious feeling. Once they're inside me, I can't really feel them—but then again, I know they're _there_.

He straightens my panties and leans forward, and his lips softly kiss my behind.

"Stand up." he orders, and I do as I'm told.

_Oh, for the love of everything holy! Now I feel them... sort of. _

He grasps my hips to steady me while I reestablish my equilibrium.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice stern.

"Yes." I whisper.

"Turn around, Catherine. Face me." he says, and I face him.

The balls pull downward and involuntarily. I clench around them. The feeling startles me but not in a bad way.

"How does that feel?" he asks.

"Strange."

"Strange good? Or strange bad?"

"Strange good." I confess, blushing.

"Good." There's a trace of humor lurking in his eyes.

"I want a glass of water. Go and fetch one for me please." he whispers.

_WTF?! He has got to be kidding me. Water, now?! Jeez!_

"And when you come back, I shall put you across my knee. Think about that, Catherine."

* * *

><p>I leave the bedroom, and it becomes abundantly clear why he wanted water. He wants me to walk around—and as I do, the balls weigh down inside me, massaging me internally. It's such a weird feeling and not entirely unpleasant. In fact, my breathing accelerates as I stretch up for a glass from the kitchen cabinet, and I gasp. <em>Vincent! I need you!<em>

I may have to keep these. They make me needy... needy for sex.

He watches me carefully as I return to him.

"Thank you." he says as he takes the glass from me. Slowly, he takes a sip, then places the glass on his bedside table. There's a foil packet, ready and waiting... _like me!_ And now I know that he's doing this to me to build the anticipation. My heart nearly bursts from beating so hard and fast inside my chest. He turns his bright brown gaze to mine.

"Come here. Stand beside me. Like last time."

I sidle up to him, my blood thrumming through my body, and this time... I'm excited. Aroused.

"Ask me." he says softly.

I frown. _Ask him what?_

"Ask me." his voice is slightly harder this time.

_What?! How was your water? What does he want from me?_

"Ask me, Catherine. I won't say it again." And there's such a threat implicit in his words, and it dawns on me. _He wants me to ask him to spank me._

"Spank me... Vincent." I whisper.

He closes his eyes momentarily, savoring my words. Reaching up, he grabs my left hand and he tugs me over his knees. I fall instantly, and he steadies me as I land in his lap. My heart is in my mouth as his hand gently strokes my behind. I'm angled across his lap so that my torso rests on the bed beside him. He smoothes my hair out of my face and tucks it behind my ear. Once he's done, he clasps my hair at the nape to hold me in place. He tugs gently and my head shifts back.

"I want to see your face, Catherine." he murmurs, all the while softly rubbing my backside. His hand moves down between the cheeks of my behind, and rubs my clitoris. I moan. _Oh, the sensation is exquisite..._

"This is for pleasure, Cat. Mine and yours." he whispers. He lifts his hand and brings it down in a resounding slap against the junction on my thighs, my behind, and my sex. The balls are forced forward inside me, and I'm lost in a quagmire of sensation. The stinging across my behind, the fullness of the balls inside me, and the fact that he's holding me down. I screw my face up as my faculties attempt to absorb all these foreign feelings. I note somewhere in my brain that he's not smacked me as hard as last time.

He caresses my backside again, trailing his palm across my skin and over my underwear.

_Why hasn't he removed them yet? I need him...BAD!_ Then his palm disappears, and he brings it down again. I groan as the sensation spreads all the way to my sex. He starts a pattern: left to right then down. The down ones are the best. Everything moving forward, inside me... and in between each smack he caresses me, kneads me—so I'm massaged inside and out. It's such a stimulating, erotic feeling, and for some reason, because this_ is_ on my terms, I don't mind the pain. It's not painful as such... well, it is, but not unbearable. It's somehow manageable and yes, pleasurable even. I moan even louder. _Yes, I can do this!_

He pauses as he slowly peels my panties down my legs. I writhe on his legs, not because I want to escape the blows—BECAUSE I DON'T—but I want more... release, something. His touch agasint my sensitized skin is all sensuous tingle. It's overwhelming, and he starts again. A few soft slaps, then building up, left to right and down. _Oh, the downs! _I moan his name.

"Good girl, Catherine." he groans, and his breathing is ragged. He smacks me once more and immediately pulls the small threads attached to the balls and jerks them out of me. I nearly climax then—the feeling is out of this world. Moving swiftly, he turns me over onto my back, on the bed. I hear the tear of foil packet, and then he's lying beside me. Our eyes lock and neither of us can pull away from the gaze. He seizes my hands, hoisting them above my head, interlocking our fingers in a slow thread, and eases himself onto me... then into me, sliding in ever so slowly, filling me where the sliver globes have been. I hiccup a whispering moan, then groan loudly.

"Catherine." he whispers as he moves his hips back, forward, a slow sensual tempo, savoring me, feeling me.

It is the most gentle he's ever been, and it takes no time at all for me to fall over the edge, spiraling into a delicious, violent, exhausting orgasm. As I clench around him, it ignites his release, and he slides into me once more, stilling, gasping out my name in desperate wonder.

* * *

><p>He's silent and panting on top of me, his hands still entwined in mine above my head. Finally, he leans back and stares down at me.<p>

"I truly enjoyed that." he whispers, and then kisses me sweetly.

He doesn't linger for more sweet kisses, but he rises, covering me with the duvet and disappears into the bathroom. On his return, he's carrying a bottle of white lotion. He sits beside me on the bed.

"Roll over." he orders softly. I move to my front.

Honestly, all this fuss. I feel very sleepy.

"Your ass is a glorious color." he says approvingly, and he tenderly massages the cooling lotion into my pink behind.

"Spill the beans, Keller." I yawn.

"Miss Chandler, you know how to ruin a moment."

"We had a deal." I snap.

"How do you feel?" he asks, politely.

"Short-changed."

He sighs, slides in beside me, and pulls me into his arms. Careful not to touch my stinging behind, we are spooning again. He kisses me very softly beside my ear as he sucks in a deep breath.

"The woman who brought me into this world was a crack whore, Catherine. Now go to sleep."

_Holy fuck... what does that mean?_

"Was?" I whisper.

"She's dead."

"How long?"

He sighs. "She died when I was four. I don't really remember her. Michael has given me some details, but not many. I only remember certain things. Please, Catherine. Go to sleep."

"Good night, Vincent." I whisper.

"Good night, Cat."

And I slip into a dazed and exhausted sleep, dreaming of a four-year-old brown-eyed boy in a dark, scary, miserable place.

* * *

><p><em><strong>**So all I'm going to say is, READ BETWEEN THE LINES! Lmao. I hope that was better than the last spanking O.O I know it was for me lol. Anywho, you all know what to do! REVIEWS!**<strong>_


	21. Chapter 21

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*WARNING:<strong>** The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, ****graphic sexual content, and DOM/SUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*Extra:<strong>** I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires. **

_Italics represent Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 21-<strong>_

There is light everywhere. Bright, warm, piercing light, and I endeavor to keep it at bay for a few more precious minutes. I want to hide, just a few more minutes. But the glare is too strong, and I finally succumb to wakefulness. A glorious Seattle morning greets me: sunshine pouring through the full-height windows and flooding the room with too-bright light. _Why didn't we close the blinds last night?_ Then it hits me. I'm in Vincent Keller's vast bed minus one Vincent Keller.

I lay back for a moment, staring through the windows at the lofty vista of Seattle's skyline. Life in the clouds sure feels unreal. A fantasy, a castle in the air, adrift from the ground, safe from the realities of life. Far away from neglect, hunger, and crack-whore mothers. I shudder to think what he has been through at such a young age. _Oh, my poor Vincent. My heart sings in sorrow for you. _I now understand why he lives here, isolated, surrounded by beautiful precious works of art—so far removed from where he started... mission statement indeed. I frown because it still doesn't explain why I can't touch him.

Ironically, I feel the same up here in his lofty tower. I'm adrift from reality. I'm in this _fantasy_ apartment, having _fantasy_ sex with my _fantasy_ boyfriend, when the grim reality is that he wants a special arrangement, though he's said he'll try more. _What does that actually mean, anyways? More...What more could I want from him?_

This is what I need to clarify between us to see if we are still at opposite ends on the seesaw or if we are inching closer together.

I clamber out of bed, feeling stiff and, for want of a better expression, well used. _Yes, that would be all the sex then. _My subconscious purses her lips in disapproval. I roll my eyes at her, grateful that a certain twitchy-palmed control freak is not in the room, and resolve to ask him about the personal trainer. That's if I sign. My inner goddess glares at me in desperation. _Of course you'll sign. _I ignore them both, and after a quick trip to the bathroom, I go in search of Vincent.

He's not in the art gallery, but an elegant middle-aged woman is cleaning in the kitchen area. The sight of her stops me in my tracks. She has short brown hair and clear blue eyes; she wears a plain white tailored shirt and a navy-blue pencil skirt. She smiles broadly when she sees me.

"Good morning, Miss Chandler. Would you like some breakfast?" Her tone is warm but business-like, and I'm stunned. Who is this attractive, older woman in Vincent's kitchen? I'm only wearing Vincent's T-shirt and suddenly I feel self-conscious and embarrassed by my lack of clothing.

"I'm afraid you have met me at a disadvantage." My voice is quiet, unable to hide the anxiety.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry. I'm Mrs. Jones, Mr. Keller's housekeeper."

_Oh..._

"How do you do?" I manage.

"Would you like some breakfast, ma'am?"

_Ma'am!_

"Just some tea would be lovely, thank you. Do you know where Mr. Keller is?" I ask.

"In his study, Miss Chandler."

"Thank you." I say with a slight smile.

I scuttle off toward the study, mortified. _Why does Vincent only have attractive women working for him?_ And a nasty thought comes to mind, involuntarily. _Are they all ex-subs?! _I refuse to entertain that hideous thought.

I poke my head shyly round the door. He's on the phone, facing the window, in black pants and a white shirt. His hair is still wet from the shower, and I'm completely distracted from my negative thoughts.

"Unless that company's P&L improves, I'm not interested, Ros. We're not carrying deadweight... I don't need any more lame excuses... Have Marco call me, it's shit or bust time... Yes, tell Barney that the prototype looks good, though I'm not sure about the interface... No, it's just missing something... I want to meet him this afternoon to discuss. In fact, him and his team, we can brainstorm... Okay. Transfer me back to Andrea..." He waits, staring out the window, master of his universe, looking down at the little people below from this castle in the sky. "Andrea..."

Glancing up, he notices me at the door. A slow, sexy smile spreads across his lovely face, and I'm rendered speechless as my insides melt. He's without a doubt the most beautiful man on the planet, too beautiful for the little people below, too beautiful for me. _He is sort of mine... _for now. The idea sends a thrill through my blood and dispels my irrational self-doubt.

He continues his conversation, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Clear my schedule this morning, but get Bill to call me. I'll be in at two. I need to talk to Marco this afternoon, that will need at least half an hour... Schedule Barney and his team in after Marco or maybe tomorrow, and find time for me to see Claude every day this week... Tell him to wait... Oh... No, I don't want publicity for Darfur... Tell Ray to deal with it... No... Which event?... That's next Saturday?... Hold on."

He looks up at me, covering the phone, "When will you be back from Georgia?" he asks.

"Friday."

He resumes his call, "I'll need an extra ticket because I have a date... Yes, Andrea, that's what I said, a date. Miss Catherine Chandler will accompany me... That's all." he hangs up. "Good morning, Miss Chandler."

"Mr. Keller." I smile shyly.

He walks around his desk with his usual grace and stands in front of me. He gently strokes my cheek with the back of his fingers.

"I didn't want to wake you, you looked so peaceful. Did you sleep weel?"

"Yes, thank you. I just came to say hi before I had a shower."

I gaze up at him, drinking him in. He leans down and gently kisses me, and I can't help myself. I throw my arms around his neck and my fingers twist in his still-damp hair. Pushing my body flush against his, I kiss him back. I want him. My attack takes him by surprise, but after a beat, he responds, a low groan in his throat. His hands slip into my hair ad down my back to cup my naked behind, his tongue exploring my mouth. He pulls back, his eyes hooded.

"Well, sleep seems to agree with you." he murmurs. "I suggest you go and have your shower, else I may lay you out across my desk."

"I choose the desk." I whisper recklessly as desire sweeps like adrenaline through my system, waking everything in its path. He stares bewildered down at me for a millisecond.

"You've really got a taste for this, haven't you, Miss Chandler? You're becoming insatiable." he murmurs.

"I've only got a taste for you, Vincent." I whisper.

His eyes widen and darken while his hands knead my naked backside. "Damn right, only me." he growls, and suddenly, with one fluid movement, he lifts me in his arms and uses my body to push off the contents on the desk, causing everything to scatter on the floor, my head is almost off the edge.

"You want it, you got it baby." he mutters, producing a foil packet from his pocket while he unzips his pants. _Oh, Mr. Boy Scout. _He rolls the condom onto his erection and gazes down at me. "I sure hope you're ready, Miss Chandler." he breathes, a salacious smile across his face. And in a moment, he's filling me to the hilt, holding my wrists tightly by my side, and thrusting into me deeply.

I groan... _oh, yes!_

"Christ, Cat. You're definitely ready." he whispers in veneration.

Wrapping my legs around his waist, I hold him the only way I can as he stays standing, staring down at me, parted lips, heavy breathing... His brown orbs are glowing passionately and possessively. He starts to move, really move. This is not making love, this is fucking—and I love it. I groan. It's so raw, so carnal, making me so wanton. I revel in his possession, his lust slaking mine. He moves with ease, luxuriating in me, enjoying me, and his breathing increases. He twists his hips from side to side, and the feeling is exquisite.

I close my eyes, feeling the build up—that delicious, slow, step-climbing build. Pushing me higher... higher to the castle in the air. _Oh, fuck yes! _His stroke increases fractionally. I moan loudly and I'm all sensation... all him, enjoying every thrust, every push that fills me. And he picks up the pace, thrusting faster...harder...and my whole body is moving to his rhythm, and I can fell my legs stiffening, and my insides quivering and quickening.

"Come on, Catherine. Give it up to me." he cajoles through gritted teeth, and the fervent need in his voice—the strain—sends me off the cliff.

I cry out a wordless, passionate plea as I touch the sun and burn, falling around him, falling down, back to a breathless, bright summit on Earth. He slams into me and stops abruptly as he reaches his climax, pulling at my wrists and sinking gracefully and wordlessly onto me.

_Wow... that was unexpected. _I slowly materialize back on Earth.

"What the hell are you doing to me?" he breathes as he nuzzles my neck, planting sweet kisses along the way. "You completely beguile me, Cat. You weave some powerful magic."

He releases my wrists, and I run my fingers through his hair, coming down from my high. I tighten my legs around him. "I'm the one beguiled." I whisper.

He gazes at me. His expression is disconcerted, alarmed even.. Placing his hands on either side of my face, he holds my head in place. "You. Are. Mine." he says, each word a staccato. "Do you understand?"

He's so earnest, so impassioned—a zealot. The force of his plea is so unexpected and disarming. I wonder why he's feeling like this. "Yes, only yours, Vincent." I whisper, derailed by his fervor.

"Are you sure you have to go to Georgia?" he asks.

I nod slowly. And in that brief moment, I watch his expression change and the shutters coming down. Abruptly he withdraws, making me wince.

"Are you sore?" he asks, leaning over me.

"A little." I confess.

"I like you sore." his eyes smolder. "Reminds you where I've been, and only me."

He grabs my chin and kisses me roughly, then stands and holds his hand out to help me up. I glance down at the foil packet beside me.

"Always prepared, Mr. Keller?" I murmur.

He looks at me confused as he redoes his fly. I hold up the empty packet.

"A man can hope, Catherine, dream even, and sometimes his dreams come true."

He sounds so odd, his eyes burning. I just don't understand. My postcoital glow is fading fast. _What is his problem?_

"So, on your desk... that's been a dream?" I ask dryly, trying humor to lighten the atmosphere between us. He smiles and enigmatic smile that doesn't reach his eyes, and I know immediately this is not the first time he's had sex on his desk. The thought is unwelcome. I squirm uncomfortably as my postcoital glow evaporates.

"I'd better go and have a shower." I stand and start to move past him. He frowns and runs a hand through his hair.

"I've got a couple more calls to make. I'll join you for breakfast when you're out of the shower. I think Mrs. Jones has laundered your clothes from yesterday. They're in the closet."

_What? When the hell did she do that? Jeez, could she hear us? _I flush.

"Thank you." I mutter.

"The pleasure was all mine, Catherine." he replies automatically, but there's an edge to his voice.

_I'm not saying thank you for fucking me. _Although, it was very...

"What?" he asks, and I realize I'm frowing.

"What's wrong?" I ask softly.

"What do you mean?"

"Well... you're being more weird than usual." I whisper.

"You find me weird, Miss Chandler?" He tries to stifle a smile.

"Sometimes."

He regards me for a moment, his eyes speculative. "As ever, I'm surprised by you, Miss Chandler."

"Surprised how?" I mutter. I'm shocked.

"Let's just say that was an unexpected treat."

"We aim to please, Mr. Keller." I cock my head to one side like he often does to me and give his words back to him.

"And please me, you do well, Catherine. Very, well." he says, but he looks uneasy. "I thought you were going to take a shower?"

_Oh... he's dismissing me._

"Yeah, uhm... I'll see you in a moment." I scurry out of his office completely dumbfounded.

He seemed confused. _Why? _I have to say as physical experiences go, that was very satisfying. But emotionally—well, I'm rattled by his reaction, and that was about as emotionally enriching as cotton candy is nutritious.

Mrs. Jones is still in the kitchen. "Would you like your tea now, Miss Chandler?"

"I'll have a shower first, thank you." I mutter and take my blazing face quickly out of the room.

* * *

><p>In the shower, I try figure out what's up with Vincent. He is the most complicated person I know, and I can't understand his ever-changing moods. He seemed fine when I went into his study. We had sex... and then he wasn't. <em>No, I don't get it<em>. I look to my subconscious. She's whistling with her hands behind her back and looking anywhere but at me. She hasn't got a clue, and my inner goddess is still basking in a remnant of postcoital glow. _Nope, we're all clueless._

I towel-dry my hair, comb it through with Vincent's one and only hair implement, and put my hair up in a messy bun. Tess' plum dress hangs laundered and ironed in the closet along with my clean bra and panties. Mrs. Jones is a marvel.

Slipping on Tess' shoes, I straighten my dress, take a deep breath, and head back out to the great room.

Vincent is still nowhere to be seen, ad Mrs. Jones is checking the contents of the pantry.

"Tea now, Miss Chandler?" she asks.

"Please." I smile at her. I feel slightly more confident now that I'm dressed.

"Would you like something to eat?"

"No, thank you." I whisper.

"Of course you'll have something to eat." Vincent snaps, glowering, "She likes pancakes, bacon, and eggs, Mrs. Jones."

"Yes, Mr. Keller. What would you like, sir?"

"Omelet, please, and some fruit." He doesn't take his eyes off me, his expression unfathomable. "Sit." he orders, pointing to one of the bar-stools.

I oblige, and he sits beside me while Mrs. Jones busies herself with breakfast. _Gosh, it's unnerving having someone else listen to our conversation._

"Have you bought your air ticket?" he asks.

"No, I'll buy it when I get home, over the Internet."

He leans on his elbow, rubbing his chin. "Do you have the money?"

_Oh no._

"Yeah." I say with mock patience as if I'm talking to a small child. He raises a censorious eyebrow at me. _Crap! _"Yes, I do. Thank you." I amend rapidly.

"I have a jet. It's not scheduled to be used for three days; it's at your disproval."

I gape at him. Of course he has a jet, and I have to resist my body's natural inclination to roll my eyes at him. I want to laugh, but I don't, as I can't read his mood.

"We've already made serious misuse of your company's aviation fleet. I wouldn't want to do it again." I murmur.

"It's my company, it's my jet." he sounds almost wounded. _Oh, boys and their toys._

"Thank you for the offer, Vincent. But I'd be happier taking a scheduled flight."

He looks like he wants to argue further but decides against it. "As you wish." he sighs. "Do you have much preparation to do for you interviews?"

"No."

"Good. You're still not going to tell me which publishing houses?" he asks.

"No."

His lips curl up in a reluctant smile, "I am a man of means, Miss Chandler."

"I am fully aware of that, Mr. Keller. Are you going to track my phone?" I ask innocently, knowing the answer to that.

"Actually, I'll be quite busy this afternoon, so I'll have to get someone else to do it." he smirks.

_Is he joking? _

"If you can spare someone to do that, you're obviously over-staffed." I mutter.

"I'll send an e-mail to the head of human resources and have her look into our head count." His lips twitch to hide his smile.

_Oh thank the Lord, he's recovered his sense of humor._

Mrs. Jones serves us our breakfast and we eat quietly for a few moments. After clearing the pans, tactfully, she heads out of the living area. I peek up at Vincent.

"What is it, Catherine?"

"You know, you never did tell me why you don't like to be touched."

He blanches, and his reaction makes me feel guilty for asking. "I've told you more than I've ever told anybody." His voice is quiet as he gazes at me impassively.

And it's obvious to me that he's never confided in anyone before. Doesn't he have any close friends? Perhaps he told Mrs. Robinson? I want to ask him, but I can't—I can't pry that invasively. I shake my head at the realization. He really is an island.

"Will you think about our arrangement while your away?" he asks.

"Yes." I whisper.

"Will you miss me?" he says low, and hopeful. I gaze at him, surprised by his question.

"Of course I will." I say low.

How could he mean so much to me in such a short amount of time? He's got under my skin..._ literally._ He smiles and his eyes light up, then he frowns as all seriousness comes back to him.

"I'll miss you too, Catherine. More than you know." he breathes. My heart warms at his words. He really is trying hard. He gently strokes my cheek, bends down, and kisses me softly.

* * *

><p>It's late afternoon, and I sit nervously and fidgeting in the lobby waiting for Mr. Gabriel Lowan of Seattle Independent Publishing. This is my second interview today, and the one I'm most anxious about. My first interview went well, but it was for a larger conglomerate with offices based throughout the United States, and I would be one of many editorial assistants there. I can imagine being swallowed up and spat out pretty quickly in such a corporate machine. SIP is where I want to be. It's small and unconventional, championing local authors, and has an interesting and quirky roster of clients.<p>

My flight is booked, my mother is in seventh heaven that I am visiting. I'm packed, and Tess has agreed to drive me to the airport. Vincent has asked me to take my BlackBerry and the Mac. I roll my my eyes at the memory of his overbearing bossiness, but I realize now that's just the way he is. He likes control over everything, including me. Yet he's so unpredictably and disarmingly agreeable, too. He can be tender, good-humored, even sweet. And when he is, it's so left field and unexpected. He insisted on accompanying me all the way down to my car in the garage. _Jeez, I'm only going for for a few days; he's acting like I'm going for weeks. _He always keeps me off balance.

"Miss Chandler?" A woman with long, blonde hair standing by the reception desk distracts me from my introspection. She has large silver earrings and her hair is straightened. She has a bohemian look about her, the sort of woman I could be friendly with. She could be in her late thirties, maybe in her forties. It's so difficult to tell.

"Yes." I reply, standing awkwardly.

She gives me a polite smile, her cool blue eyes assessing me. I'm wearing one of Tess' dresses, a black pinafore over a white blouse, and my black pumps. Very interview, I think. My hair is restrained in a tight bun, and for once the tendrils are behaving themselves. She holds her hand out to me.

"Hello, Catherine. My name's Tyler Morgan. I'm head of human resources here at SIP."

"How do you do?" I shake her hand. She looks casual to be the head of HR.

"Please follow me." she says, turning on her heels and walking through double doors behind the reception area. We walk into a large brightly decorated open-plan office, and from there we head into a small meeting room. The walls are pale green, lined with pictures of book covers. At the head of the maple conference table sits a young man with jet black hair, slicked back professionally. He wears a pale blue shirt, no tie, and stone chinos. As I approach him, he stands and gazes at me with fathomless dark brown eyes.

"Catherine Chandler. I'm Gabe Lowan, the acquisitions editor here at SIP, and I'm very pleased to meet you."

We shake hands, and his dark expression is unreadable, though friendly enough, I think.

"Have you traveled far?" he asks pleasantly.

"No, I've recently moved to the Pike Street Market area."

"Oh, not far at all then. Please, take a seat."

I sit, and Tyler takes a seat beside him.

* * *

><p>Gabe Lowan asks sharp, intelligent questions, but I'm not thrown—I keep up, and when we discuss my reading preferences and my favorite books, I think I hold my own. Gabe, on the other hand, appears to only favor American literature written after 1950. Nothing else. No classics—not even Henry James or Upton Sinclair or F. Scott Fitzgerald. Tyler says nothing, just nods occasionally and takes notes during the interview. Gabe, though argumentative, is charming in his way, and my initial wariness dissapates the longer we talk.<p>

"And where do you see yourself in five years time, Miss Chandler?" he asks.

_With Vincent Keller. _The thought comes involuntarily into my head. My errant mind makes me frown.

"Copy-editing, perhaps? Maybe a literary agent, I'm not sure. I am open to opportunities."

He grins. "Very good, Catherine. I don't have any further questions. Do you?" he directs his question towards me.

"When would you like someone to start?" I ask.

"As soon as possible." Tyler pipes up. "When could you start?"

"I'm available from next week." I smile.

"That's good to know." Gabe says.

"If that's all everyone has to say,"-Tyler glances at the two of us—"I think that concludes the interview." she smiles kindly.

"It's been a pleasure to meet you, Catherine." Gabe says softly as he takes my hand. He squeezes it gently, so that I blink up at him as I say good-bye.

* * *

><p>I feel unsettled as I make my way to my car, though I'm not sure why. I think the interview went well, but it's so hard to say. Interviews seem such artificial situations; everyone on their best behavior trying desperately to hide behind a professional facade. <em>Did my face fit?<em> I shall have to wait and see.

I climb into my Audi A3 and head back to the apartment, though I take my time. I'm on the red-eye with a stopover in Atlanta, but my flight doesn't leave until 10:25 this eveing, so I have plenty of time.

* * *

><p>Tess is unpacking boxes in the kitchen when I return. "How did they go?" shes asks, excited. Only Tess can look goegeous in an oversized shirt, tattered jeans, and a dark blue bandana.<p>

"Good, thanks, Tess. Not sure this outfit was cool enough for the second interview."

"Oh?"

"Boho chic might have done it." I smile.

Tess raises an eyebrow. "You and boho chic." she cocks her head to one side—_gah!_ _Why is everyone reminding me of my favorite Fifty Shades? _

"Actually, Cat, you're one of the few people who could really pull that look off."

I grin. "I really liked the second place. I think I could fit in there. The guy who interviewed me was unnerving, though..."

I trail off—_shit, I'm talking to Megaphone Vargas here. Shut up, Catherine!_

"Oh?" The Tess Vargas radar for an interesting tidbit of information swoops into action—a tidbit that will only resurface at some inopportune and embarrassing moment, which reminds me.

"Incidentally, will you please stop winding Vincent up? Your comment about Patrick at dinner yesterday was out of line. He's a jealous guy. It doesn't do any good, you know."

"Look, Cat, if he wasn't JT's brother I'd have said a lot worse. He's a real control freak. I don't know how you stand it. I was _trying_ to make him jealous—give him a little help with his commitment issues." she holds her hands up defensively. "But if you don't want me to interfere, I won't." she says hastily at my scowl.

"Good. Life with Vincent is complicated enough, trust me." I hiss.

_Jeez, I sound like him._

"Cat." she pauses, staring at me, "You're okay, aren't you? You're not running to your mother's to escape?"

I flush. "No, Tess. It was you who said I needed a break."

She closes the distance between us and takes my hands—a most un-Tess thing to do. _Oh no... _Tears threaten.

"You're just, I don't know... different. I hope you're okay, and whatever issues you're having with Mr. Moneybags, you can talk to me. And I will try not to wind him up, though frankly it's like shooting fish in a barrel with him." she pauses and sighs, "Look, Catherine, if something's wrong, tell me. I won't judge. I'll try to understand."

I blink back tears. "Oh, Tess." I hug her. "I think what's wrong is that I've really fallen for him."

"Cat, anyone can se that. And he's fallen for you, too. He's crazy, mad about you. Won't take his eyes off you."

I laugh uncertainly, "Do you think so?"

"Hasn't he told you?" she asks, surprised.

"Not in so many words."

"Have you told him?"

"Not in so many words." I shrug apologetically.

"Catherine! Someone has to make the first move, otherwise you'll never get anywhere."

_What... tell him how I feel?_

"I'm just afraid I'll frighten him away." I whisper.

"And how do you know he's not feeling the same?"

"Vincent? Afraid? I can't imagine him being frightened of anything." But as I say the words, I imagine him as a small child. Maybe fear was all he knew then. Sorrow grips and squeezes my heart at the thought.

Tess gazes at me with pursed lips and narrowed eyes, rather like my subconscious—all she needs are the half-moon specs.

"You two need to sit down and just talk to each other."

"We haven't been doing much talking lately." I blush and smile. Other stuff. Nonverbal communication and that's okay. Well, much more than okay.

She grins, "That'll be the sexing! If that's going well, then that's half a battle, Cat. I'll grab some Chinese take-out. Are you ready to go?"

"I will be. We don't have to leave for a couple of hours or so." I shrug with a smile.

"Nope. I'll see you in twenty." She grabs her jacket and leaves, forgetting to close the door. I shut it behind her and head off to my bedroom, mulling over her words.

_Is Vincent afraid of having feelings for me? Does he even have feelings for me? _He seems very keen, says I'm his—but that's just part of his I-must-own-and-have-eveything-now control freak, Dominant-self, surely. I realize that while I'm away, I will have to run through all our conversations again and see if I can pick out telltale signs.

_I'll miss you too, Catherine. More than you know..._

_You've completely beguiled me..._

I shake my head. I don't want to think about it now.

* * *

><p>I'm charging the BlackBerry, so I haven't had it with me all afternoon. I approach it with caution, and I'm disappointed that there are no messages. I switch on the mean machine, and there are no messages there, either. <em>Same e-mail address, Cat—<em>my subconscious rolls her eyes at me, and for the first time I understand why Vincent wants to spank me when I do that.

_Okay. Well, I'll just write him an e-mail._

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Interviews

**Date: **May 30 2011 18:49

**To: **Vincent Keller

Dear Sir,

My interviews went well today.

Thought you might be interested.

How was your day?

Cat

* * *

><p>I sit and glare at the screen. Vincent's responses are usually instantaneous. I wait...and wait, and finally I hear the welcome ping from my inbox.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** My Day

**Date:** May 30 2011 19:03

**To:** Catherine Chandler

Dear Miss Chandler,

Everything you do interests me. You are the most fascinating woman I know.

I'm glad your interviews went well.

My morning was beyond all expectations.

My afternoon was very dull in comparison.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject: **Fine Morning

**Date: **May 30 2011 19:05

**To: **Vincent Keller

Dear Sir,

The morning was exemplary for me, too, in spite of you weirding out on me after the impeccable desk sex. Don't think I didn't notice.

Thank you for breakfast. Or thank Mrs. Jones.

I'd like to ask you questions about her—without you weirding out on me again.

Cat

* * *

><p>My finger hovers over the send button, and I'm reassured that I'll be on the other side of the continent this time tomorrow.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject: **Publishing and You?

**Date:** May 30 2011 19:10

**To: **Catherine Chandler

Catherine,

"Weirding" is not a verb and should not be used by anyone who wants to go into publishing. Impeccable? Compared to what, pray tell? And what do you need to ask about Mrs. Jones? I'm intrigued.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** You and Mrs. Jones

**Date:** May 30 2011 19:17

**To: **Vincent Keller

Dear Sir,

Language evolves and moves on. It is an organic thing. It is not stuck in an ivory tower, hung with expensive works of art and overlooking most of Seattle with a helipad stuck on its roof.

Impeccable—compared to the other times we have... what's your word? Oh yes... "fucked". Actually the _fucking_ has been pretty impeccable, period, in my humble opinion—but then again, as you know, I have very limited experience.

Is Mrs. Jones an ex-sub of yours?

Catherine

* * *

><p>My finger hovers once more over the send button, and I press it.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Language. Watch your Mouth!

**Date: **May 30 2011 19:22

**To: **Catherine Chandler

Catherine,

Mrs. Jones is a valued employee. I have never had any relationships with her beyond our professional one. I do not employ anyone I've had any sexual relations with. I am shocked that you would think so. The only person I would make an exception to this rule is you—because yo are a bright young woman with remarkable negotiating skills. Though, if you continue to use such language, I may have to reconsider taking you on here. I am glad you have limited experience. Your experience will continue to be limited—just to me. I shall take impeccable as a compliment—though with you, I'm never sure if that's what you mean or if your sense of irony is getting the better of you—as usual.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc., from his Ivory Tower

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Not for All the Tea in China

**Date:** May 30 2011 19:27

**To: **Vincent Keller

Dear Mr. Keller,

I think I have already expressed my reservations about working for your company. My views on this have not changed, are not changing, and will not change, ever. I must leave you now, as Tess has returned with food. My sense of irony and I bid you good night.

I will contact you once I'm in Georgia.

Cat

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject: **Even Twinings English Breakfast Tea?

**Date: **May 30 2011 19:29

**To: **Catherine Chandler

Good night, Catherine.

I hope you and your sense of irony have a safe flight.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p>Tess and I pull up outside the drop-off area at Sea-Tac Airport departure terminal. Learning across, she hugs me.<p>

"Enjoy Barbados, Tess. Have a wonderful vacation." I smile.

"I'll see you when I get back. Don't let old moneybags grind you down."

"I won't." I giggle.

We hug again—and then I'm on my own. I head over to check-in and stand in line, waiting with my carry-on luggage. I haven't bothered with a suitcase, just a smart rucksack that Thomas gave me for my last birthday.

"Ticket please?" The bored young man behind the desk holds up his hand without looking at me.

Mirroring his boredom, I hand over my ticket and my driver's license as ID. I'm hoping for a window seat if at all possible.

"Okay, Miss Chandler. You've been upgraded to first class."

"What?"

"Ma'am, if you'd like to go through to the first class lounge and wait for your flight there..." he seems to have woken up and is beaming at me like I'm Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny rolled into one.

"Surely there's some mistake." I snap.

"No, no." he checks his computer screen again. "Catherine Chandler—upgrade." he simpers.

_UGH! _I narrow my eyes. He hands me my boarding pass, and I head toward the first class lounge muttering under my breath. _Damn Vincent Keller, control freak! He just can't leave well enough alone!_

* * *

><p><em><strong>**May post again tonight... LATE tonight. So keep looking lol. Reviews please! Thanks guys so much for the love!**<strong>_


	22. Chapter 22

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*WARNING:<strong>** The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, ****graphic sexual content, and DOM/SUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*Extra:<strong>** I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: This chapter is going to be a little longer than normal I think. I hope you guys enjoy it. Again I say READ BETWEEN THE LINES because a lot will be revealed in this chapter.)**

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 22-<strong>_

I am manicured, massaged, and I've had two glasses of champagne. The first class lounge has many redeeming features. With each sip of Moet, I feel slightly more inclined to forgive Vincent and his intervention. I open up my MacBook, hoping to test the theory that it works anywhere on the planet.

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Catherine Chandler

**Subject: **Over-Extravagant Gestures

**Date: **May 30 2011 21:53

**To:** Vincent Keller

Dear Mr. Keller,

What really alarms me is how you knew which flight I was on.

Your stalking knows no bounds. Let's hope that Dr. Marks is back from vacation.

I have had a manicure, a back massage, and two glasses of champagne—a very nice start to my vacation.

Thank you.

Cat

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** You're Most Welcome

**Date:** May 30 2011 21:59

**To: **Catherine Chandler

Dear Miss Chandler,

Dr. Marks is back, and I have an appointment this week.

Who was massaging your back?

Vincent Keller

CEO with friends in the right places, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><em>Aha! Payback time! <em>Our flight has been called, so I shall e-mail him from the plane. It will be safer. I almost hug myself with mischievous glee.

There is so much room in first class. Champagne cocktail in hand, I settle myself into the sumptuous leather window seat as the cabin slowly fills. I call Thomas to tell him where I am—a mercifully brief call, as it's so late for him.

"Love you too, Dad." I murmur.

"You, too, Kitten. Say hi to your mom. Good night."

"Good night." I hang up.

Thomas is in good form. I stare at my Mac, and with the same childish glee building, I open my laptop and fire up my e-mail.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Strong Able Hands

**Date:** May 30 2011 22:22

**To:** Vincent Keller

Dear Sir,

A very pleasant young man massaged my back. Yes. Very pleasant indeed. I wouldn't have encountered Jean-Paul in the ordinary departure lounge—so thank you again for that treat. I'm not sure if I'll be allowed to e-mail once we take off, and I need my beauty sleep since I've not been sleeping so well recently.

Pleasant dreams, Mr. Keller... I'm thinking of you.

Catherine x

* * *

><p>Oh, he's going to flip out, and I shall be airborne and out of reach. Serves hims right. If I'd been in the ordinary departure lounge, then Jean-Paul wouldn't have gotten his hands on me. He was a very nice young man, in a blond, perma-tanned way—honestly, who has a tan in Seattle? It's just so wrong. I think he was gay—but I'll just keep that detail to myself. I stare at my e-mail. Tess is right. It is like shooting fish in a barrel with him. My subconscious stares at me with an ugly twist to her mouth; <em>Do you really want to wind him up? <em>

_What he's done is sweet, you know! He cares about you and wants you to travel in style._ Yes, but he could have asked me or told me. Not made me look like a complete klutz at check0in. I press send and wait, feeling like a very naughty girl.

"Miss Chandler, you'll need to stow your laptop for take-off." the over-made-up flight attendant says politely. She makes me jump. My guilty conscience is at work.

"Oh, sorry." I whisper as I close the Mac.

_Crap! _Now I have to wait to know if he's replied. She hands me a soft blanket and pillow, showing her perfect white teeth. I drape the blanket over my knees. It's nice to feel pampered sometimes.

* * *

><p>First class has filled up, except for the seat beside me, which is still unoccupied. <em>Oh no... <em>A disturbing thought crosses my mind. _Perhaps the seat is Vincent's... Oh, shit!... no... he wouldn't do that. Would he? _I told him I didn't want him to come with me. I glance anxiously at my watch, and then the disembodied voice from the flight deck announces, "Cabin crew, doors to automatic and cross check."

_What does that mean? Are they closing the doors? _My scalp prickles as I sit in palpitating anticipation. The seat next to me is the only unoccupied seat in the sixteen-seat cabin. The plane jolts as it pulls away from the gate, and I breathe a sigh of relief but feel a faint tingle of disappointment too... no Vincent for four days.

I take a sneak peek at my BlackBerry.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Enjoy It While You Can

**Date:** May 30 2011 22:25

**To: **Catherine Chandler

Dear Miss Chandler,

I know what you're trying to do—and trust me, you've succeeded. Next time you'll be in the cargo hold, bound and gagged in a crate. Believe me when I say that attending to you in that state will give me so much more pleasure then merely upgrading your ticket.

I look forward to your return.

Vincent Keller

Palm-Twitching CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><em>Holy crap! <em>That's the problem with Vincent's humor—i can never be sure if he's joking or if he's seriously angry. I suspect on this occasion he's seriously angry. Surreptitiously, so the flight attendent can't see, I type a reply under the blanket.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject: **Joking?

**Date: **May 30 2011 22:30

**To:** Vincent Keller

You see—I have no idea if you're joking—and if you're not, then I think I'll stay in Georgia. Crates are a HARD limit for me. Sorry I made you mad. Forgive me?

Cat

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Joking.

**Date:** May 30 2011 22:31

**To:** Catherine Chandler

How can you be e-mailing? Are you risking the life of everyone on board, including yourself, by using your BlackBerry? I think that contravenes one of the rules.

Vincent Keller

Two Palms Twitching CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><em>Two palms? <em>I put my BlackBerry away, sit back while the plane taxis to the runway, and pull out my tattered copy of _Tess—_some light reading for the journey. Once we're airborne, I tip my seat back, and soon I'm drifting off to sleep.

* * *

><p>The flight attendant wakes me as we start our descent into Atlanta. Local time is 5:45 a.m., but I've only had four hours of sleep or so... I feel groggy but grateful for the glass of orange juice she gives me. I glance nervously at my BlackBerry. There are no further e-mails from Vincent. Well, it's nearly three in the morning in Seattle, and he probably wants to discourage me from screwing up the avionics system or whatever prevents planes from flying if mobile phones are switched on.<p>

The wait in Atlanta is only an hour. And again I'm luxuriating in the confines of the first class lounge. I'm tempted to curl up and go to sleep on one of the plush, inviting couches that sink softly under my weight. But it will just not be long enough. To keep myself awake, I start a long stream-of-consciousness e-mail to Vincent on my laptop._ It's time to tell him how I feel. Well, some of how I feel._

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Do You Like to Scare Me?

**Date:** May 31 2011 06:52 EST

**To: **Vincent Keller

You know how much I dislike you spending money on me. Yes, you're very rich, but still it makes me uncomfortable, like you're paying me for sex. However, I like traveling first class, it's so much more civilized than coach. So thank you. I mean it—and I did enjoy the massage from Jean-Paul. He was very gay. I omitted that bit in my e-mail to you to wind you up, because I was annoyed with you, and I'm sorry about that.

But as usual you overreact. You can't write things like that to me—bound and gagged in a crate. (Were you serious or was it a joke?) That scares me... you scare me... I am completely caught up in your spell, considering a lifestyle with you that I didn't even know existed until last week, and then you write something like that and I want to run screaming into the hills. I won't, of course, because I'd miss you too. _Really _miss you. I want us to work, but I am terrified of the depth of feeling I have for you and the dark path you're leading me down. What you are offering is erotic and sexy, and I'm curious, but I'm also scared you'll hurt me—physically, and emotionally. After three months you could say good-bye, and where will that leave me if you do? But then I suppose that risk is there in any relationship. This just isn't the sort of relationship I ever imagined having, especially as my first. It's a huge leap of faith for me.

You were right when you said I didn't have a submissive bone in my body... and I agree with you now. Having said that, I want to be with you, and if that's what I have to do, I would like to try, but I think I'll suck at it and end up black and blue—and I don't relish that idea at all.

I am so happy that you have said that you will try more. I just need to think about what "more" means to me, and that's one of the reasons why I wanted some distance. You dazzle me so much I find it very difficult to think clearly when we're together.

They are calling my flight. I have to go.

More later.

Your Catherine

* * *

><p>I press send and make my way sleepily to the departure gate to board a different plane. This one has only six seats in first class, and once we are in the air, I curl up under my soft blanket and fall asleep.<p>

* * *

><p>All too soon, I'm woken by the flight attendant offering me more orange juice as we begin our approach to Savannah International. I sip slowly, beyond fatigued, and I allow myself to feel a modicum of excitement. I'm going to see my mother for the first time in six months. Sneaking another covert look at my BlackBerry, I remember vaguely that I sent a long, rambling e-mail to Vincent—but there's nothing in response. It's five in the morning in Seattle; hopefully he's still asleep and not up playing mournful laments on his piano.<p>

* * *

><p>My mom is waiting with Bob, and it's so good to see them. I don't know if it's because of exhaustion, the long journey, or the whole Vincent situation, but as soon as I'm in my mother's arms, I burst into tears.<p>

"Oh, Cat, honey. You must be so tired." she glances anxiously at Bob.

"No, mom, it's just—I'm so pleased to see you." I hug her tightly.

She feels so good and welcoming, like home. Reluctantly, I relinquish her, and Bob gives me an awkward one-armed hug. He seems unsteady on his feet, and I remember that he's hurt his leg.

"Welcome back, Cat. Why you cryin'?" he asks.

"Aw, Bob. I'm just pleased to see you, too." I stare up into his handsome square-jawed face and his twinkling blue eyes that gaze at me fondly._ I like this husband, Mom. You can keep him._ He takes my back-pack.

"Jeez, Cat. What have you got in here?"

That would be the Mac, and they both put their arms around me as we head for the parking lot.

* * *

><p>I always forget how unbearably hot it is in Savannah. Leaving the cool air-conditioned confines of the arrival terminal, we step into the Georgia heat like we're wearing it. <em>Whoa! <em>It saps everything. I have to struggle out of Mom and Bob's embrace so I can remove my hoodie. I'm so glad I packed shorts. I miss the dry heat of Las Vegas sometimes, where I lived with Mom and Bob when I was seventeen, but this wet heat, even at 8:30 in the morning, takes some getting used to.

By the time I'm in the back of Bob's wonderfully air-conditioned Tahoe SUV, I feel limp, and my hair has started a frizzy protest at the heat. In the back of the SUV, I quickly text Thomas, Tess, and of course, Vincent:

***Arrived safely in Savannah. Cat :)***

My thoughts stray briefly to Patrick as I press send and through the fog of my fatigue, I remember that his show is next week. _Should I invite Vincent, knowing how he feels about Patrick? Will Vincent still want to see me after that e-mail?_ I shudder at the thought, and then put it out of my mind. _I'll deal with that later._ Right now I'm going to enjoy my mom's company.

* * *

><p>I'm in my blue halter-neck tankini, sipping a Diet Coke, on a sun bed facing the Atlantic Ocean, and to think that only yesterday I was staring out at the Sound toward the Pacific. My mother lounges beside me in a ridiculously large floppy sun hat and Jackie O shades, sipping a Coke of her own. We are on Tybee Island Beach, just three blocks from home. She holds my hand. My fatigue has warned, and as I soak up the sun, I feel comfortable, safe, and warm. For the first time in forever, I start to relax.<p>

"So, Cat... tell me about this man who has you in such a spin."

_Spin?! How can she tell? What to say?_ I can't talk about Vincent in any great detail because of the NDA, but even then, would I choose to talk to my mother about it? I blanch at the thought.

"Well?" she prompts, and squeezes my hand.

"His name's Vincent. He's beyond handsome. He's wealthy... _too_ wealthy. He's very complicated and mercurial." I mutter.

Yes—I feel inordinately pleased with my response. I turn on my side to face her, just as she makes the same move. She gazes at me with her shiny, green emerald, hazel eyes.

"Complicated and mercurial are the two pieces of information I want to concentrate on, Cat."

_Oh no..._

"Oh, Mom. His mood swings make me dizzy. He's had a grim upbringing, so he's very closed, difficult even to gauge."

"Do you like him?" she asks.

"I _more_ than like him."

"Really?" she gapes at me.

"Yes, Mom... Really."

"Men aren't really complicated, Catherine, honey. They are very simple, literal creatures. They usually mean what they say. And we spend hours trying to analyze what they've said, when really it's obvious. If I were you, I'd take him literally. That might help."

I gape at her. This sounds like good advice. _Take Vincent literally._ Immediately some of the things he's said spring into my mind.

_I don't want to lose you..._

_You've bewitched me..._

_You've completely beguiled me..._

_I'll miss you too, Catherine. More than you know..._

I gaze at my mom. She _is _on her fourth marriage. Maybe she does know something about men after all.

"Most men are moody, darling, some more than others. Take your father, for instance..." Her eyes soften and sadden whenever she thinks of my dad. My real dad, this mythical man I never knew, snatched so cruelly from us in a combat training accident when he was a marine. Part of me thinks my mom has been looking for someone like my dad all this time... maybe she's finally found what she's looking for in Bob. Pity she couldn't find it with Thomas.

"I used to think your father was mood, but now when I look back, I just think he was too caught up in his job and trying to make a life for us." she sighs. "He was so young, we both were. Maybe that was the issue."

_Hmm... _Vincent isn't exactly old. I smile fondly at her. She can become very soulful thinking about my father, but I'm sure he had nothing on Vincent's moods.

"Bob wants to take us out tonight for dinner. To his golf club."

"Oh no! Bob's started playing golf?" I laugh.

"Tell me about it." groans my mother, rolling her eyes.

* * *

><p>After a light lunch back at the house, I start to unpack. I'm going to treat myself to a siesta. My mother has disappeared to mold some candles or whatever she does with them, and Bob is at work, so I have time to catch up on some sleep. I open the Mac and fire it up. It's two in the afternoon in Georgia, eleven in the morning in Seattle. I wonder if I have a reply from Vincent. Nervously, I open up my e-mail. Sure enough, he's replied.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Finally!

**Date:** May 31 2011 07:30

**To:** Catherine Chandler

Catherine,

I am annoyed that as soon as you put some distance between us, you communicate openly and honestly with me. Why can't you do that when we're together?

Yes, I'm rich. Get used to it. Why shouldn't I spend money on you? We've told your father I'm your boyfriend, for heaven's sake. Isn't that what boyfriends do? As your Dom, I would expect you to accept whatever I spend on you with no argument. Incidentally, tell your mother, too.

I don't know how to answer your comment about feeling like a whore. I know that's not what you've written, but it's what you imply. I don't know what I can say or do to eradicate these feelings. I'd like you to have the best of everything. I work exceptionally hard so I can spend my money as I see fit. I could buy you your heart's desire, Catherine, and I want to. Call it redistribution of wealth, if you will. Or simply know that I would not, could not _ever _think of you as a whore, and I'm angry that's how you perceive yourself. For such a bright, witty, beautiful young woman, you have some real self-esteem issues, and I have half a mind to make an appointment for you to see Dr. Marks.

I apologize for frightening you. I find the thought of instilling fear in you abhorrent. Do you really think I'd let you travel in the hold? I offered you my private jet. Yes, it was a joke, a poor one obviously. However, the fact is the thought of you bound and gagged turns me on (this is not a joke—it's true). I can lose the crate—crates do nothing for me. I know you have issues with gagging—we've talked about that—and if/when I do gag you, we'll discuss it. What I think you fail to realize is that in Dom/Sub relationships it is the sub who has all the power. Not I. In the boathouse you said no. I can't touch you if you say no—that's why we have an agreement—what you will and won't do. If we try things and you don't like them, we can revise the agreement. It's up to you—not me. And if you don't want to be bound and gagged in a crate, then it won't happen.

I want to share my lifestyle with you. I have never wanted anything so much in my life. Frankly, I'm in awe of you, that one so innocent would be willing to try. That says more to me than you could ever know. You fail to see I am caught in your spell, too, even though I have told you this countless times. I don't want to lose you, Catherine. I am nervous that you've flown three-thousand miles away from me for a few days, because you can't think clearly around me. It's the same fr me, Catherine. My reason vanishes when we're together—that's the depth of my feeling for you.

I understand your trepidation. I did try to stay away from you; I knew you were inexperienced, though I would never have pursued you if I had known exactly _how_ innocent you were—and yet you still manage to disarm me completely in a way that nobody has before. Your e-mail for example: I have read and reread it countless time trying to understand your point of view. Three months is an arbitrary amount of time. We could make it six months, a year? How long do you want it to be? What would make you comfortable, happy? Tell me.

I understand that this is a huge leap of faith for you. I have to earn your trust, but by the same token, you have to communicate with me when I am failing to do this. You seem so strong and self-contained, and then I read what you've written here, and I see another side to you. We have to guide each other, Catherine, and I can only take my cues from you. You have to be honest with me, and we have to both find a way to make this arrangement work.

You worry about not being submissive. Well, maybe that's true. Having said that, the only time you do assume the correct demeanor for a sub is in the playroom. It seems that's the one place where you let me exercise proper control over you and the only place you do as you're told. "Exemplary" is the term that comes to mind. And I'd never beat you black and blue. I aim for pink. Outside the playroom, I like that you challenge me. It's a very novel and refreshing experience, and I wouldn't want to change that. So yes, tell me what you want in terms of more. I will endeavor to keep an open mind, and I shall try to give you the space you need and stay away from you while you're in Georgia. I look forward to your next e-mail.

In the meantime, enjoy yourself. But not too much.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><em>Holy crap! <em>He's written an essay like we're back at school, and most of it is good. My heart leaps into my throat as I reread his response, and I huddle on the spare bed practically hugging my Mac. _Make our agreement a year? I have the power?! Jeez! _I'm going to have to think about that. _Take him literally. _That's what my mother says. _He doesn't want to lose me? He's said that twice! He wants to make this work, too. Oh, Vincent. So do I! He's going to try to stay away?! _Does this mean he is going to fail to stay away? Suddenly, I hope so. I want to see him. We've been apart less than twenty-four hours, and knowing that I can't see him for four days, I realize how much I miss him. How much I_ love_ him.

* * *

><p>"Cat, honey." the voice is soft and warm, full of love and sweet memories of times gone by. A gentle hand brushes my face. My mom wakes me, and I'm wrapped around my laptop, hugging it to me.<p>

"Catherine, sweetheart." she continues in her soft, singsong voice while I surface from sleep, blinking in the pale pink light of dusk.

"Hi, Mom." I stretch out and smile.

"We're going out for dinner in thirty minutes. You still want to come?" she asks kindly.

"Oh, yes, Mom. Of course." I try very hard but fail to stifle my yawn.

"Now that's an impressive piece of technology." she points out my laptop.

_Oh crap!_

"Oh... this?" I strive for casual, surprised nonchalance. Will Mom notice? She seems to have grown more astute since I acquired a '_boyfriend'._

"Vincent lent it to me. I think I could pilot the space shuttle with it, but I just use it for e-mails and Internet access."

_Really, it's nothing. _Eyeing me suspiciously, she sits down on the bed and tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

"Has he e-mailed you?"

_Oh, double crap!_

"Yeah." My nonchalance is wearing thin, and I flush.

"Perhaps he's missing you, huh?" she smiles.

I sigh. "I hope so, Mom."

"What does he say?" she asks.

_Triple crap! _I frantically try to think of something acceptable from that e-mail I can tell my mother. I'm sure she doesn't want to hear about Doms and bondage and gagging, but then again, I can't tell her because there's the NDA.

"He's told me to enjoy myself, but not too much." I whisper.

"Sounds reasonable. I'll leave you to get ready, sweetie." Leaning over, she kisses my forehead. "I'm so glad you're here, Catherine. It's wonderful to see you." And with that loving statement, she leaves.

_Hmm, Vincent and reasonable..._ two concepts that I thought were mutually exclusive, but after his e-mail, maybe all things are possible. I shake my head. I will need time ti digest his words. Probably after dinner—and I can reply to him then. I climb out of bed and quickly slip out of my T-shirt and shorts and head to the shower.

I've brought Tess' gray halter-neck dress that I wore for my graduation. It's the only dressy item I have. One good thing about the heat is that the creases have dropped out, so I think it will do for the golf club. As I dress, I open up the laptop. There is nothing new from Vincent, and I feel a stab of disappointment. Very quickly, I type him an e-mail.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject: **Verbose?

**Date: **May 31 2011 19:08 EST

**To:** Vincent Keller

Sir, you are quite the loquacious writer. I have to go to dinner at Bob's golf club, and just so you know, I'm rolling my eyes at the thought. But you and your twitchy palm are a long way from me so my behind is safe, for now. I loved your e-mail. Will respond when I can. I miss you already. Enjoy your afternoon.

Your Catherine

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Your Behind

**Date:** May 31 2011 16:10

**To: **Catherine Chandler

Dear Miss Chandler,

I am distracted by the title of this e-mail. Needless to say, it _is _safe—for now.

Enjoy your dinner, and I miss you, too. Especially your behind and your smart mouth.

My afternoon will be dull, brightened only by thoughts of you and your eye rolling. I think it was_ you_ who so judiciously pointed out to me that I, too, suffer from that nasty habit.

Vincent Keller

CEO & Eye Roller, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject: **Eye Rolling

**Date:** May 31 2011 19:14 EST

**To: **Vincent Keller

Dear Mr. Keller,

Stop e-mailing me. I am trying to get ready for dinner. You are_ very _distracting, even when you are on the other side of the continent. And yes—_who_ spanks_ you_ when you roll _your_ eyes?

Your Catherine

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject: **Your Behind

**Date:** May 31 2011 16:18

**To:** Catherine Chandler

Dear Miss Chandler,

I still prefer my title to yours, in so many different ways. It is lucky that I am master of my own destiny and no one castigates me. Well, except my mother, occasionally, and Dr. Marks, of course... and you.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Chastising... Me?

**Date:** May 31 2011 19:22 EST

**To: **Vincent Keller

Dear Sir,

When have I ever plucked up the nerve to chastise you, Mr. Keller? I think you are mixing me up with someone else... which is very worrying. I really do have to get ready.

Your Catherine

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Your Behind

**Date: **May 31 2011 16:25

**To: **Catherine Chandler

Dear Miss Chandler,

You do it all the time in print. Can I zip up your dress?

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p>For some unknown reason, his words leap off the screen and make me gasp. <em>Oh... he wants to play games.<em> And I smile.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** NC-17

**Date:** May 31 2011 19:28 EST

**To: **Vincent Keller

I would rather you unzipped it, Mr. Keller.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Careful What You Wish For...

**Date:** May 31 2011 16:31

**To: **Catherine Chandler

SO WOULD I.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Panting

**Date: **May 31 2011 19:33 EST

**To: **Vincent Keller

Slowly...

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Vincent Keller

**Subject: **Groaning

**Date:** May 31 2011 16:35

**To: **Catherine Chandler

I wish I were there, Catherine.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Moaning

**Date: **May 31 2011 19:37 EST

**To:** Vincent Keller

SO DO I.

* * *

><p>"Catherine!" My mother calls me, making me jump. <em>Shit! <em>Why do I feel so guilty?

"Just coming, mom!"

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Moaning

**Date: **May 31 2011 19:39 EST

**To: **Vincent Keller

Gotta go.

Laters, baby.

* * *

><p>I dash into the hall, where Bob and my mother are waiting. My mother frowns.<p>

"Darling, are you feeling okay? You look a bit flushed."

"Mom, I'm fine."

"you look lovely, dear." she adds.

"Oh, this is Tess' dress. You like it?" I ask.

Her frown deepens. "Why are you wearing Tess' dress?"

_Oh...no!_

"Well, I like this one and she doesn't." I improvise quickly. She regards me shrewdly while Bob oozes impatience with his hangdog, hungry look.

"I'll take you shopping tomorrow." she says.

"Oh, Mom. You don't need to do that. I have plenty of clothes."

"Can't I do something for my own daughter? Come on, Bob's starving."

"Too right." moans Bob, rubbing his stomach and assuming a fake pained expression.

I giggle as he rolls his eyes, and we head out the door.

* * *

><p>Later, when I'm in the shower, cooling under the lukewarm water, I reflect on hos much my mother has changed. Seeing her at dinner, she was in her element: funny, and flirty and among many friends at the golf club. Bob was warm and attentive... they seem so good for each other. I'm really pleased for her. It means I can stop worrying about her and second-guessing her decisions and put the dark days of Husband Number Three behind us both. Bob is a keeper. And she's giving me good advice. <em>When did that start happening? <em>Since I met Vincent Keller. _Why is that?_

When I'm done, I dry myself quickly, keen to get back to Vincent. There's an e-mail waiting for me, sent just after I left for dinner a few hours ago.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject: **Plagiarism

**Date:** May 31 2011 16:41

**To: **Catherine Candler

You stole my line, and left me hanging.

Enjoy your dinner.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Who Are You to Cry Thief?

**Date:** May 31 2011 22:18 EST

**To:** Vincent Keller

Sir, I think you'll find it was JT's line originally.

Hanging how?

Your Catherine

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Unfinished Business

**Date: **May 31 2011 19:22

**To:** Catherine Chandler

Miss Chandler,

You're back. You left so suddenly—just when thing were getting interesting.

JT's not very original. He must have stolen that line from someone.

How was dinner?

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject: **Unfinished Business?

**Date:** May 31 2011 22:26 EST

**To: **Vincent Keller

Dinner was filling—you'll be very pleased to hear I ate far too much.

Getting interesting? How?

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Unfinished Business—Definitely!

**Date: **May 31 2011 19:30

**To: **Catherine Chandler

Are you being deliberately obtuse? I think you'd just ask me to unzip your dress.

And trust me, I was looking forward to doing just that. I am also glad to hear you are eating.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Well... There's Always the Weekend.

**Date: **May 31 2011 22:36 EST

**To: **Vincent Keller

Of course I eat... it's only the uncertainty I feel around you that puts me off my food.

And I would never be unwittingly obtuse, Mr. Keller.

Surely you've worked that out by now. ;)

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Can't Wait!

**Date:** May 31 2011 19:40

**To:** Catherine Chandler

I shall remember that, Miss Chandler, and no doubt use the knowledge to my advantage.

I'm sorry to hear that I put you off your food. I thought I had a more concupiscent effect on you. That has been my experience, and the most pleasurable it has been, too.

I very much look forward to the next time.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Catherine Chandler

**Subject: **Gymnastic Linguistics

**Date:** May 31 2011 22:36 EST

**To: **Vincent Keller

Have you been playing with the thesaurus again?

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Rumbled

**Date:** May 31 2011 19:40

**To: **Catherine Chandler

You know me so well, Miss Chandler.

I am having dinner with an old friend now so I will be driving.

Laters, baby ;)

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><em>Which old friend? <em>I didn't think Vincent had any old friends, except... _her._ I frown at the screen. _Why does he have to still see her?_ Searing, green, bilious jealousy courses through me unexpectedly. I want to hit something, preferably Mrs. Robinson. Switching the laptop off in a temper, I clamber into bed.

I should really respond to his really long e-mail from this morning, but I'm suddenly too angry. _Why can't he see her for what she is? A child molester!_ I switch off the light, seething, staring into the darkness. _How dare she? How dare she pick on a vulnerable adolescent?! Is she still doing it? Why did they stop?_ Various scenarios filter through my mind: _If he had, had enough, then why is he still friends with her? Ditto her—is she married? Divorced? Jeez—does she have children of her own?_

_Does she have Vincent's children?! _My subconscious rears her ugly head, leering, and I'm shocked and nauseated at the thought. _Does Dr. Marks know about her?_

I struggle out of bed and fire up the mean machine again. I am on a mission. I have to know if he's with her. I type a quick e-mail to Vincent.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Suitable Dinner Companions

**Date:** May 31 2011 23:58 EST

**To:** Vincent Keller

I hope you and your friend had a very pleasant dinner.

Cat

P.S.: Was it Mrs. Robinson?

* * *

><p>I press send and climb desperately back into bed, resolving to ask Vincent about his relationship with that woman. Part of me is desperate to know more, and another part wants to forget he ever told me. And tomorrow I'm to start taking my birth control pills. I sigh, looking over at my BlackBerry that sits on the side table next to my bed. And before I drift into a deep sleep, I get lost into my thoughts. <em>I wish we were in the same city, not twenty-five-hundred miles apart.<em>

* * *

><p>After a morning of shopping, and an afternoon back at the beach, my mother and I head out to a bar to finish the evening out with drinks. Abandoning Bob to the TV, we find ourselves in the upscale bar of Savannah's most exclusive hotel. I'm on my second Cosmopolitan. My mother is on her third. She is offering more insights into the fragile male ego. It's very disconcerting.<p>

"You see, Cat, men think that anything that comes out of a woman's mouth is a problem to be solved. Not some vague idea that we'd like to kick around and talk about for a while and then forget. Men prefer action."

"Mom, why are you telling me this?" I ask, failing to hide my exasperation. She's been like this all day.

"Darling, you sound so lost. You've never brought a boy home. You never even had a boyfriend when we were in Vegas. I thought something might develop with that guy you met in college, Patrick."

"Mom, Patrick's just a friend."

"I know, sweetheart. But something's up, and I don't think you're telling me everything." She gazes at me, her face etched with motherly concern.

"I just needed some distance from Vincent to get my thoughts straight... that's all. He tends to overwhelm me."

"Overwhelm?" she asks.

"Yeah. I miss him, though." I frown.

I haven't heard from Vincent all day. No e-mails, nothing. I'm tempted to call him to see if he's okay. My worst fear is that he's been in a car accident; my second worse fear is that Mrs. Robinson has gotten her evil claws into him again. I know it's irrational, but where she's concerned, I seem to have lost all sense of perspective.

"Darling, I have to visit the restroom."

My mother's brief absence allows me another chance to check my BlackBerry. I've been trying surreptitiously to check my e-mail all day. Finally—a response from Vincent!

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject: **Dinner Companions

**Date:** June 1 2011 21:40 EST

**To:** Catherine Chandler

Yes, I had dinner with Mrs. Robinson. She is just an old friend, Catherine.

Looking forward to seeing you again. I miss you.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p>He <em>was<em> having dinner with her. My scalp prickles as adrenaline and fury lance through my body, all my worst fears realized. _How could he?_ _I'm away for two days, and he runs off to that evil bitch!_

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** OLD Dinner Companions

**Date:** June 1 2011 21:42 EST

**To: **Vincent Keller

She's not just an old friend, Vincent.

Has she found another adolescent boy to sink her teeth into?

Did you get too old for her?

Is that the reason your relationship finished?

Miss Chandler

* * *

><p>I press send as my mother returns.<p>

"Cat, you're so pale. Are you ill? What's happened?"

I shake my head.

"Nothing. Let's have another drink." I mutter mulishly.

Her brow furrows, but she glances up and attracts the attention of one of the waiters, pointing to our glasses. He nods. The waiter understands the universal language of _'another round, please.'_ As she does, I quickly glance at my BlackBerry.

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Vincent Keller

**Subject: **Careful...

**Date:** June 1 2011 21:45 EST

**To: **Catherine Chandler

This is not something I wish to discuss via e-mail.

How many Cosmopolitans are you going to drink?

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><em>Holy fuck! Vincent's here!<em>

* * *

><p><em><strong>**SO, what did ya think? PLEASE TELL ME! Lol. Reviews are welcome!**<strong>_


	23. Chapter 23

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*WARNING:<strong>** The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, ****graphic sexual content, and DOM/SUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*Extra:<strong>** I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: This chapter is totally my ALL TIME FAVE in Book 1 of FSOG. Hope you all enjoy it.)**

_Italics represent Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 23-<strong>_

I glance nervously around the bar but can't see him.

"Cat? What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"It's Vincent... he's here." I whisper, trembling.

"What? Really?" she glances around the bar, too. I have neglected to mention Vincent's stalker tendencies to my mother.

I see him. My heart leaps, beginning a jittery thumping beat as he makes his way toward us. _Oh my God... He's really here—and for me. _My inner goddess leaps up cheering from her chaise lounge. Moving smoothly through the crowd, his hair glints burnished, golden brown under the recessed halogens. His bright brown orbs are shining with—_anger? Tension?_ His mouth is set in a grim line, jaw tense. _Oh, holy shit... no! _I'm so mad at him right now, and here he is._ How can I be angry with him in front of my mother?_

He finally reaches our table, gazing at me warily. He's dressed in his customary white linen—the top two buttons of his shirt are unfastened, exposing his skin—and blue Levi jeans.

"Hi." I squeak, unable to hide my shock and awe at seeing him here in the flesh.

"Hi." he replies, and leaning down, he kisses my cheek, taking me by surprise.

"Vincent, this is my mother, Vanessa." My ingrained manners take over. He turns to greet her, "Mrs. Reynolds, I'm delighted to meet you."

_How does he know her name?! _He gives her the heart-stopping, Vincent Keller-patented, full-blown, no-prisoners smile. She doesn't have hope. My mother's lower jaw practically hits the table. _Jeez, Mom... you too?! WHAT THE HELL?! _She takes his proffered hand, and they shake. My mom hasn't replied. _Oh, complete dumbfounded speechlessness is genetic—_I had no idea.

"Vincent." she manages finally, breathlessly.

He smiles knowingly at her, his brown eyes twinkling. I narrow my eyes at them both.

"What are you doing here?" My question sounds more brittle than I mean, and his smile disappears, his expression now guarded. I'm thrilled to see him but completely thrown off balance, my anger about Mrs. Robinson simmering through my veins. I don't know if I want to shout at him or throw myself into his arms—but I don't think he'd like either—and I want to know how long he has been watching us. I'm also a little anxious about the e-mail I just sent him.

"I came to see you, of course." he gazes down at me impassively. _Oh, what is he thinking? _"I'm staying in this hotel."

"You're staying here?" I sound like a sophomore on amphetamines, too high pitched even for my own ears.

"Well, yesterday you said you wished I was here." he pauses, trying to gauge my reaction, "We aim to please, Miss Chandler." His voice is quiet with no trace of humor.

_Crap—is he mad? Maybe the Mrs. Robinson comments pissed him off? Or the fact that I'm on my third, soon to be fourth, Cosmo?_ My mother is glancing anxiously at the two of us.

"Won't you join us for a drink, Vincent?" my mother waves to the waiter, who is at her side in a nanosecond.

"I'll have a gin and tonic." Vincent says. "Hendricks if you have it, or Bombay Sapphire. Cucumber with the Hendricks, lime with the Bombay."

_Holy hell... _Only Vincent could make a meal out of ordering a drink.

"And two more Cosmos, please." I add, looking anxiously at Vincent. I'm drinking with my mother. No way can he be angry about that.

"Please, pull up a chair, Vincent." my mother states with a smile.

"Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds." he replies.

Vincent pulls a nearby chair over and sits gracefully down beside me.

"So you just happen to be staying in the hotel where we're drinking?" I ask, trying to keep my tone light.

"Or you just happen to be drinking in the hotel where I'm staying." Vincent replies. "I just finished dinner, came in here, and saw you. I was distracted, thinking about your most recent e-mail, and I glance up and there you are. Quite a coincidence, eh?" he cocks his head to one side, and I see a trace of a smile. _Thank heavens—we may be able to save the evening after all._

"My mother and I were shopping this morning and on the beach this afternoon. We decided on a few cocktails to end the day." I mutter, feeling that I owe him some sort of explanation.

"Did you buy that top?" He nods at my brand new green silk camisole. "The color suits you. And you've caught some sun. You look lovely, Catherine." he adds.

I flush, speechless at his compliment.

"Well, I was going to pay you a visit tomorrow. But here you are." he says. He reaches over, takes my hand, and squeezes it gently, running his thumb across my knuckles to and fro... and I feel the familiar pull. The electric charge zapping beneath my skin under the gently pressure from his thumb, firing into my bloodstream and pulsing around my body, heating everything in its path. It's been more than two days since I saw him. _Oh my... I want him!_

My breath hitches. I blink at him, smiling shyly, and see a smile play on his lips.

"I thought I'd surprise you. But as ever, Catherine, you surprise me by being here."

I glance quickly at Mom, who is staring at Vincent... yes staring. _Stop it, Mom! _As if he's some exotic creature, never seen before. I mean, I know I've never had a boyfriend, and Vincent only qualifies as such for ease of reference—but is it so unbelievable that I could attract a man? _This man? _

_Yes, frankly—look at him! _My subconscious snaps. _Oh, shut up! Who invited you to the party?_ I scowl at my mom, but she doesn't seem to notice.

"I don't want to interrupt the time you have with your mother. I'll have a quick drink and then retire. I've work to do." he states earnestly.

"Vincent, it's lovely to meet you finally." Mom interjects, finally finding her voice, "Cat has spoken very fondly of you."

He smiles at her, "Really?" he raises an eyebrow at me, an amused expression on his face, and I flush again.

The waiter arrives with our drinks.

"Hendricks, sir." the waiter says with a triumphant flourish.

"Thank you." Vincent murmurs in acknowledgment. I sip my latest Cosmo nervously.

"How long are you in Georgia, Vincent?" Mom asks.

"Until Friday, Mrs. Reynolds."

"Will you have dinner with us tomorrow evening?" And please, call me Vanessa."

"I'd be delighted, Vanessa."

_Hello?! I am sitting here!_

"Excellent. If you two will excuse me, I need to visit the restroom."

_Mom... you've just been! _

I look at her desperately as she stands and walks off, leaving me alone with Vincent. _Oh, boy..._

* * *

><p>"So you're mad at me for having dinner with an old friend." Vincent turns his burning, wary gaze to me, lifting my hand to his lips and kissing each knuckle gently.<p>

_Jesus! He wants to do this now?_

"Yes." I murmur as my heated blood courses through me.

"Our sexual relationship was over long ago, Catherine." he whispers. "I don't want anyone but you. Haven't you worked that out yet?" he adds.

I blink at him. "I think of her as a child molester, Vincent." I hold my breath waiting for his reaction.

Vincent blanches, "That's very judgmental. It wasn't like that." he whispers, shocked. He releases my hand.

_Judgmental?!_

"Oh, how was it then?" I ask. The Cosmos are making me brave and anger has officially took over me.

He frowns at me, bewildered. I continue, "She took advantage of a vulnerable fifteen-year-old boy. If you had been a fifteen-year-old girl, and Mrs. Robinson was a Mr. Robinson, tempting you into a BDSM lifestyle, that would have been okay? IF it was Tori, say?"

He gapes and scowls at me, "Cat, it wasn't like that."

I glare at him.

"Okay, it didn't feel like that to me." he continues quietly. "She was a force for good. What I needed." he adds.

"I don't understand." It's my turn to look bewildered.

"Catherine, your mother will be back shortly. I'm not comfortable talking about this now. Later, maybe. If you don't want me here, I have a plane on standby at Hilton Head. I can go."

_He's angry with me... no._

"No... don't go. Please. I'm thrilled you're here. I'm just trying to make you understand. I'm angry that as soon as I left, you had dinner with her. Think about how you are when I get anywhere near Patrick. Patrick is a good friend. I have never had a sexual relationship with him, whereas you and her..." I trail off, unwilling to take that thought further.

"You're jealous?" he stares at me, dumbfounded, and his eyes soften slightly, warming.

"Yes, and angry about what she did to you." I snap.

"Catherine, she helped me. That's all I'll say about that. And as for your jealousy, put yourself in my shoes. I haven't had to justify my actions to anyone in the last seven years. Not one person. I do as I wish, Catherine. I like my autonomy. I didn't go and see Mrs. Robinson to upset you. I went because every now and then we have dinner. She's a friend and a business partner."

_Business partner? Holy crap. This is news._

He gazes at me, assessing my expression. "Yes, we're business partners. The sex is over between us. It has been for years."

"Why did your relationship end?" I ask in a whisper.

His mouth narrows and his eyes gleam. "Her husband found out."

_OH MY FREAKING LORD!_

"Can we talk about this some other time—somewhere more private?" he growls.

"I don't think you'll ever convince me that she's not some kind of pedophile." I hiss.

"I don't think of her that way. I never have. Now that's enough!" he snaps.

"Did you love her?" I deadpan.

"How are you two getting along?" My mother has returned, unseen by either of us.

I plaster a smile on my face as both Vincent and I lean back hastily... guiltily. She gazes at me.

"Fine, Mom."

Vincent sips his drink, watching me closely, his expression guarded. _What is he thinking? Did he love her? _I think f he did, I will lose it, big time.

"Well, ladies... I shall leave you to your evening." Vincent stands.

_No...no... he can't leave me hanging like this!_

"Please put these drinks on my tab, room number 612. I'll call you in the morning, Catherine. Until tomorrow, Vanessa."

"Oh, it's so nice to hear someone use your full name." my mom smiles.

"Beautiful name for a beautiful girl." Vincent murmurs, shaking her outstretched hand, and she actually simpers.

_Oh, Mom—et tu, Brute? _I stand, gazing up at him, imploring him to answer my question, and he kisses my cheek chastely.

"Laters, baby." he whispers in my ear. Then he's gone.

* * *

><p><em>Damned control freak bastard! <em>My anger returns in full force. I slump into my chair and turn to face my mother.

"Well, strike me down with a feather, Cat. He's a catch. I don't know what's going on between you two though. I think you need to talk to each other. Phew—the UST in here, it's unbearable." She fans herself.

"MOM!"

"Go talk to him."

"I can't. I came here to see you." I whisper.

"Catherine, you came here because you're confused about that boy. It's obvious you two are crazy about each other. You need to talk to him. He's just flown three-thousand-odd miles to see you, for heaven's sake. And you know how awful it is to fly."

I flush. I haven't told her about his private jet.

"What?" she snaps.

"He has his own plane." I mumble, embarrassed, "and it's only two and a half thousand miles, Mom."

_Why am I embarrassed? _Her eyebrows shoot up.

"Wow." she mutters. "Cat, there's something going on between you two. I've been trying to fathom it since you arrived here. But the only way you are going to sort the problem, whatever it is, is to talk it through with him. You can do all the thinking you like—but until you actually talk, you're not going to get anywhere."

I frown at my mother.

"Catherine, honey, you've always had a tendency to over-analyze everything. Go with your gut. What does that tell you, sweetheart?"

I stare at my fingers as tears threaten my eyes. I lick my lips as I close my eyes to release a few tears as I look up at my mother, "Mom?... I... I think I'm in love with him." I mutter.

"I know darling. And he with you."

"No!"

"Yes, Catherine. Hell, what do you need? A neon sign flashing on his forehead?"

I gape at her as silent tears trail down my cheeks.

"Catherine, darling. Please, don't cry. I'm not trying to upset you." she says.

"I don't think he loves me."

"I don't care how rich you are, you don't drop everything and get in your private plane to cross a whole continent just for afternoon drinks. Go to him! This is a beautiful location, very romantic. It's also neutral territory."

I squirm under her gaze. I want to go, then again I don't. I wipe my face with the back of my hand as I recover my senses.

"Darling, don't feel you have to come back with me. I want you happy—and right now I think the key to your happiness is upstairs in room 612. If you need to come home later, the key is under the yucca plant on the front porch. If you stay—well... you're a big girl now. Just be safe."

I flush Stars and Stripes red. _Jeez, Mom._

"Let's finish our Cosmos first." I murmur with a sigh.

"That's my girl." She grins.

* * *

><p>I knock timidly on room 612 and wait. Vincent opens the door. He's on his cell. He blinks at me in complete surprise, then holds the door open wide and beckons me into his room.<p>

"All the redundancy packages concluded?... And the cost?..." Vincent whistles between his teeth. "Sheesh... that was one expensive mistake... And Lucas?..."

I glance around the room. He's in a suite, like the one at the Heathman. The furnishings here are ultramodern, very now. All muted dark purples and golds with bronze starbursts on the walls. Vincent walks over to a dark wood unit and pulls open a door to reveal a minibar. He indicates that I should help myself, then wanders into the bedroom. I assume it's so I can no longer hear his conversation. I shrug. He didn't stop his call when I entered his study that time. I hear water running... he's filling a bath. I help myself to an orange juice. He ambles back into the room.

"Have Andrea send em the schematics. Barney said he's cracked the problem..." Vincent laughs, "No, Friday... There's a plot of land here that I'm interested in... Yeah, get Bill to call... No, tomorrow... I want to see what Georgia will offer if we move in." Vincent doesn't take his eyes off me. Handing me a glass, he points to an ice bucket.

"If their incentives are attractive enough... I think we should consider it, though I'm not sure about the damned heat here... I agree, Detroit has its advantages, too, and it's cooler..." His face darkens momentarily. _Why? _

"Get Bill to call. Tomorrow... Not too early." He hangs up and stares at me, his face unreadable, and the silence stretches between us.

_Okay... my turn to talk._

"You didn't answer my question." I murmur.

"No. I didn't." he says quietly, his brown eyes wide and cautious.

"No, you didn't answer my question? Or no, you didn't love her?"

He folds his arms and leans against the wall, and a small smile plays upon his lips.

"What are you doing here, Catherine?"

"I've just told you."

He takes a deep breath, "No... I didn't love her." He frowns at me, amused yet puzzled. I can't believe I'm holding my breath. I sag like an old cloth sack as I release it. _Well, thank heavens for that. _I wonder how I would feel if he did actually love the witch.

"You're quite the green-eyed goddess, Catherine. Who would have thought?"

"Are you making fun of me, Mr. Keller?"

"I wouldn't dare." he shakes his head solemnly, but he has a wicked gleam in his eye.

"Oh, I think you would, and I think you do—often." I whisper.

He smirks as I give him the same line he had said to me before. His eyes darken.

"Please stop biting your lip. You're in my room, I haven't set eyes on you for nearly three days, and I've flown a long way to see you." His tone has changed to soft, sensual.

His BlackBerry buzzes, distracting us both, and he switches it off without glancing to see who it is. My breath hitches. I know where this is going..._ but we're supposed to talk. _He takes a step toward me wearing his sexy predatory look.

"I want you, Catherine. Now. And I know you want me too. You wouldn't be here if it weren't true.

"I really _did_ want to know." I whisper as a defense.

"Well, now that you do, are you coming or going?" he asks.

I flush as he comes to a halt in front of me.

"Coming." I whisper, staring anxiously up at him.

"Oh, I hope so." he gazes down at me. "You were so mad at me." he breathes.

"Yes."

"I don't remember _anyone_ but my family ever being mad at me. I like it." He runs the tips of his fingers down my cheek. _Oh my...his proximity, his delicious Vincent smell. _We're supposed to be talking, but my heart is pounding, my blood singing as it courses through my veins, desire pooling, unfurling... everywhere. Vincent bends and runs his nose along my shoulder and up to the base of my ear, his fingers slipping into my hair.

"We should talk." I whisper.

"Later."

"There's so much I want to say."

"Me, too."

He plants a soft kiss under my earlobe while his fingers tighten in my hair. Pulling my head back, he exposes my throat to his lips. His teeth skim my chin, and he kisses my throat.

"I want you." he breathes.

I moan and reach up and grasp his arms.

"Are you on your period?" he asks, continuing to kiss me.

_Holy fuck... Really?!_

"No." I whisper, embarrassed by his forwardness.

"Good." he stops and looks down at me, "Did you take your pill?"

"Yes." _How mortifying is this?_

"Let's go have a bath."

_Oh?_

* * *

><p>He takes my hand and leads me into the bedroom. It's dominated by a super-king-sized bed with elaborate drapes. But we don't stop there. He takes me into the bathroom, which is two rooms, all aquamarines and white limestone. It's huge. In the second room a sunken bath, big enough for four people with stone steps that lead into it, is slowly filling with water. Steam rises gently above the foam, and I notice a stone bench that runs all the way around the bath. Candles flicker to the side. <em>Wow... he's done all this while on the phone. And, for me?<em>

"Do you have a hair tie?" he asks.

I blink at him, fish into my jeans pocket, and pull out a hair elastic.

"Put your hair up." he orders softly, I do as he asks.

It's warm and sultry beside the bath, and my camisole starts to stick. He leans over and shuts off the faucet. Leading me back into the first part of the bathroom, he stands behind me as we face the wall-sized mirror above the two glass sinks.

"Take your sandals off." he murmurs and I oblige quickly dropping them to the sandstone floor.

"Lift up your arms." he breathes. I do as I'm told, and he lifts my camisole over my head so that I'm topless standing in front of him. Not taking his eyes off mine, he reaches around and undoes the top button on my jeans and the zipper.

"I'm going to have you in the bathroom, Catherine."

Leaning down, he kisses my neck. I move my head to one side to give him easier access. Hooking his thumbs into my jeans, he slowly slides them down my legs, sinking down behind me as he pulls them and my panties to the floor.

"Step out of your jeans."

Grasping the edge of the sink, I do just that. I'm now completely naked, staring at myself, and he's kneeling behind me, He kisses and then softly bites my behind, making me gasp. He stands and stares at me once more in the mirror. I try hard to stay still, ignoring my natural inclination to cover myself. He splays his hand across my belly, the span of his hand almost reaching from hip to hip.

"Look at you. You're so beautiful." he murmurs. "See how you feel." he clasps both my hands in his, his palms against the backs of my hands, his fingers in between mine so that my fingers are splayed. He places my hands on my belly. "Feel how soft your skin is." His voice is soft and low. He moves my hands in a slow circle, then upward toward my breasts. "Feel how full your breasts are." He holds my hands so that they cup my breasts. He gently strokes my nipples with his thumbs over and over.

I moan between parted lips and arch my back so my breasts fill my palms. He squeezes my nipples between our thumbs, pulling gently so that they elongate further. I watch in fascination at the wanton creature writhing in front of me. _Oh, this feels good._

I groan and close my eyes, no longer wanting to see that libidinous woman in the mirror falling apart under own hands... his hands... feeling my skin as he would, experiencing how arousing it is—just his touch and his calm, soft commands.

"That's right, Catherine." he murmurs.

He guides my hands down the sides of my body, trailing them over my hour-glass shape, past my waist to my hips. He slides his leg in between mine, pushing my feet further apart, widening my stance, and runs my hands over my sex, one hand at a time in turn, setting up a rhythm. It's so erotic. Truly, I'm a marionette and he's the master puppeteer.

"Look at you glow, Catherine." he whispers as he trails kisses and soft nibbles along my shoulder. I groan. Suddenly he lets go.

"Carry on." he orders, standing back, watching me.

_I rub myself? No... I want him to do it. It doesn't feel the same. _I'm lost without him. He pulls his shirt over his head and quickly takes his jeans off.

"You'd rather I do this?" his brown gaze scorches mine in the mirror.

"Oh yes... please." I breathe.

He wraps his arms around me again and takes my hands once more, continuing the sensual caress across my sex, over my clitoris. His erection presses against me. _Oh, soon... please! _He bites the nape of my neck, and I close my eyes, enjoying the myriad sensations: my neck, my groin...the feel of him behind me. He stops abruptly ad spins me around, circling my wrists with one hand, imprisoning my hands behind me, pulling at my ponytail with the other I'm flush against him, and he kisses me wildly, ravaging my mouth with his. Holding me in place.

His breathing is ragged, matching mine.

"I need you, Catherine." he breathes and I nearly faint by his words.

_Need me?_

"Hold onto the sink, Catherine." he whispers with dark eyes. And he drags my hips back again, like he did in the playroom, so I'm bending down. And before you know it, he's inside me... _ah! _Skin against skin... moving slowly at first... easily, testing me, pushing me... _oh my! _I grip on to the sink, panting, forcing myself back on him, feeling him inside me. _Oh, the sweet agony!_ His hands clasp my hips. He sets a punishing rhythm—in, out, and he reaches around and finds my clitoris, massaging me... _oh God! _I can feel myself quickening.

"That's right, baby." he rasps as he grinds into me, angling his hips, and it's enough to send me flying high.

_Whoa... _and I get off, loudly, gripping for dear life onto the sink as I spiral down through my orgasm, everything spinning and clenching at once. He follows, clasping me tightly, his front on my back as he climaxes and calls my name as if it was a litany or a prayer.

His breathing is ragged in my ear, in perfect synergy with mine. "Oh, Catherine. Will I ever get enough of you?" he whispers.

* * *

><p>We sink slowly to the floor, and he wraps his arms around me, imprisoning me. <em>Will it always be like this? So overwhelming, so all-consuming, so bewildering and beguiling.<em> I wanted to talk, but now I'm spent and dazed from his lovemaking and wondering if _I _will ever get enough of _him_?

I'm curled on his lap, my head against his chest, as we both calm. Very subtly, I inhale his sweet, intoxicating Vincent scent. _I must not nuzzle. I must not muzzle. _I repeat the mantra in my head—though I'm so tempted to do so. I want to lift my hand and draw invisible patterns on his chest with my fingertips... but I resist, knowing that he'll hate it if I do. We're both quiet, lost in our thoughts. I'm so lost in him... lost_ to_ him.

"Let's have a bath." he murmurs, kissing the top of my head. He uncurls from around me, placing me on the floor as he makes to stand. As he does, I notice again the small, round white scars on his chest. They're not chicken pox, I muse absentmindedly. Mary said he was hardly affected. _Holy shit... they must be burns. But burns from what? _I blanch at the realization, shock and revulsion coursing through me. _From cigarettes? Mrs. Robinson? His crack whore of a mother? Who? Who could do such a thing?! _Maybe there's a reasonable explanation, and I'm overreacting—wild hope blossoms in my chest, hope that I'm wrong.

"What is it?" Vincent's face is wide-eyed with alarm.

"Your scars." I whisper, "They're not from chicken pox."

I watch as in a split second he closes down, his stance changing from relaxed, calm, and at ease to defense—angry even. He frowns, his face darkening, and his mouth presses into a thin, hard line.

"No, they're not." he snaps, but he does not elaborate further. He stands, holds his hand out for me, and hauls me to my feet.

"Don't look at me like that." his voice is colder and scolding as he lets go of my hand. I flush, chastened, and stare down at my fingers, and I know... I know that someone stubbed lit cigarettes out on Vincent. I feel physically sick at the thought that someone would have tortured my beautiful Fifty Shades.

"Did she do that?" I whisper before I can stop myself. He says nothing, so I'm forced to look at him. He's glaring at me.

"She? As in Mrs. Robinson? She's not an animal, Catherine. Of course she didn't. I don't understand why you feel you have to demonize her." He's standing there, naked... oh, gloriously naked in fact, and we're finally having this conversation. And I'm naked too—neither of us has anywhere to hide, except perhaps the bath. I take a deep breath, move past him, and step into the water. It's deliciously warm, soothing, and deep. I melt into the fragrant foam and stare up at him, hiding among the bubbles.

"I just wonder what you would be like if you hadn't met her. If she hadn't introduced you to your... uhm, lifestyle."

He sighs and steps into the bath, opposite of me, his jaw clenched with tension, his eyes frosty. As he gracefully submerges his body beneath the water, he's careful not to touch me. _Jeez! Have I made him that mad?_

He stares impassively at me, his face unreadable, saying nothing. Again the silence stretches between us, but I hold my counsel. _It's your turn, Keller. I'm not caving this time. _My subconscious is nervous, anxiously biting her nails—this could go either way. Vincent and I stare at each other, but I'm not backing down. Eventually, after what seems like a millennium, he shakes his head, and he smirks.

"I would probably have gone the way of my birth mother, had it not been for Mrs. Robinson."

_Oh! _I blink at him. _Crack addict or whore? Probably both?_

"She loved me in a way I found... acceptable." he adds with a shrug.

_What the hell does that mean?_ "Acceptable?" I whisper.

"Yes." he stares intently at me. "She distracted me from the destructive path I found myself following. It's very hard to grow up in a perfect world with a perfect family when you're nowhere near perfect."

_Oh, Vincent... I'm so sorry. _My mouth dries as I digest his words. He gazes at me, his expression unfathomable. He's not going to tell me any more. _How frustrating is that?_ Inside, I'm reeling—he sounds so full of self-loathing. And Mrs. Robinson loved him. _Holy shit... does she still? _I feel like I've been kicked in the stomach.

"Does she still love you?" I ask in a whisper.

"I don't think so, not like that." He frowns as if he hasn't thought about the idea. "I keep telling you it was a long time ago. It's in the past. I couldn't change it even if I wanted to, which I don't. She saved me from myself." He's exasperated and runs a wet hand through his hair. "I've never discussed this with anyone." he pauses. "Except Dr. Marks, of course. And the only reason I'm talking about this now, to you, is because I want you to trust me."

"I do trust you, but I do want to know you better, and whenever I try to talk to you, you distract me. There's so much I want to know, Vincent."

"Oh, for pity's sake, Catherine. What do you want to know? What do I have to do?" His eyes blaze, and though he doesn't raise his voice, I know he's trying to rein in his temper. I glance down at my hands, clear beneath the water as the bubbles have started to disperse.

"I'm just trying to understand; you're such an enigma. Unlike anyone I've met before. I'm glad you're telling me what I want know." I say lowly.

_Jeez—_maybe it's the Cosmopolitans making me brave, but suddenly I can't bear the distance between us. I move through the water to his side and lean against him so we're touching, skin to skin. He tenses and eyes me warily, as if I might bite. _Well, that's a turnaround. _My inner goddess gazes at him in quiet, surprised speculation.

"Please don't be angry with me." I whisper.

"I'm not angry with you, Catherine. I'm just not used to this kind of talking—this probing. I only have this with Dr. Marks and with—" he stops and frowns.

"With her... Mrs. Robinson. You talk to her?" I prompt, trying to rein in my own temper.

"Yes, I do."

"What about?" I ask.

He shifts in the bath so that he's facing me, causing the water to lap over the sides onto the floor. He places his arm around my shoulders, resting on the ledge of the bath.

"Persistent aren't you?" he murmurs, a trace of irritation in his voice. "Life, the universe—business. Catherine, Mrs. R and I go way back. We can discuss anything."

"Me?" I whisper.

"Yeah." Brown eyes watch me carefully. I bite my bottom lip, trying to curb the sudden rush of anger that surfaces.

"Why do you talk about me?" I endeavor not to sound whiney and petulant, but I don't succeed. I know I should stop. I'm pushing him too hard. My subconscious has her Munch's Scream face on again.

"I've never met anyone like you, Catherine."

"What does that mean? Anyone who just didn't automatically sign your paperwork, no questions asked?"

He shakes his head, "I need advice."

"And you take advice from Mrs. Pedo?" I snap. The hold on my temper is more tentative than I thought.

"Catherine—enough." he snaps back sternly, his eyes narrowing. I'm skating on thin ice, and I'm heading into danger. "Or I'll put you across my knee. I have no sexual or romantic interest in her whatsoever. She's a dear, valued friend and a business partner. That's all. We have a past, a shared history, which was monumentally beneficial for me, though it fucked up her marriage—but that side of our relationship is over."

_Jeez—_another apart I just can't understand. She was married as well. _How did they get away with it for so long?_

"And your parents never found out?" I ask.

"No." he growls, "I've told you this."

And I know that's it. I can't ask him any further questions about her because he will lose it with me.

"Are you done?" he snaps.

"For now." I mutter.

He takes a deep breath and visibly relaxes in front of me, like a great weight has been lifted fro mhis shoulders or something.

"Right—my turn." he murmurs, and his glare turns steely, speculative. "You haven't responded to my e-mail."

I flush. _Oh, I hate the spotlight on me. _And it seems he's going to get angry every time we have a discussion. I shake my head. Perhaps that's how he feels about my questions; he's not used to being challenged. The thought is revelatory, distracting, and unnerving.

"I was going to respond. But now your're here."

"You'd rather I wasn't?" he breathes, his expression impassive again.

"No. I'm glad that you're here." I murmur.

"Good." he gives me a genuine, relieved smile. "I'm glad that I'm here too—in spite of your interrogation. So, while it's acceptable to grill me, you think you can claim some kind of diplomatic immunity just because I've flown all this way to see you? I'm not buying it, Miss Chandler. I want to know how you feel."

_Oh no..._

"I told you... I'm pleased that you're here. Thank you for coming all this way." I say feebly.

"It's my pleasure, Catherine." his eyes shine as he leans down and kisses me gently. I feel myself responding automatically. The water is still warm, the bathroom still steamy. He stops and pulls back, gazing down at me. "No. I think I want some answers first before we do any more."

_More? _And there is that word again, and he wants answers... but answers to what? I don't have a secret past—I don't have a harrowing childhood. What could he possibly want to know about me that he doesn't already know?

I sigh, resigned, "What do you want to know?"

"Well, for starters, how you feel about our would-be arrangement." he mutters with a sigh.

I blink at him. _Truth or dare time—_my subconscious and inner goddess glance nervously at each other. _Hell, let's go for truth._

"I don't think I can do it for an extended period of time. A whole weekend being someone I'm not." I flush and stare at my hands.

He tips my chin up, and he's smirking at me, amused. "No, I don't think you could, either."

And part of me feels slightly affronted and challenged. "Are you laughing at me?" I ask, surprised.

"Yes, but in a good way." he says with a small smile. He leans down and kisses me softly, briefly. "You're not a great submissive." he breathes as he holds my chin, his eyes dancing with humor.

I stare at him, shocked, then I burst out laughing—and he joins me. "Maybe I don't have a good teacher." I smirk.

He snorts. "Maybe. Perhaps I should be stricter with you." He cocks his head to one side and gives me an artful smile. I swallow. _Jeez, no. _But at the same time, my muscles clench deliciously deep inside. It is his way of showing that he cares. Perhaps the only way he can show he cares—i realize that. He's staring at me, gauging my reaction.

"Was it that bad when I spanked you the first time?"

I gaze back at him, blinking. _Was it that bad? _I remember feeling confused by my reaction. It hurt, but not that much in the second time... _Well, that was good...hot!_

"No, not really." I whisper.

"It's more the idea of it?" he prompts.

"I suppose. Feeling pleasure, when one isn't supposed to."

"I remember feeling the same once upon a time. Takes a while to get your head around it." he murmurs.

_Holy hell! This was when he was a teen._

"You can always use the safe-word, Catherine. Don't forget that. And, as long as you follow the rules, which fulfill a deep need in me for control and keep you safe, then perhaps we can find a way forward."

"Why do you need to control me?" I ask.

"Because it satisfies a need in me that wasn't met in my formative years."

"So its a form of therapy?"

"I've not thought of it like that, but yes, I suppose so."

This I _can _understand. This will help.

"But, here's the thing—one moment you say 'don't defy me,' the next you say you like to be challenged. That's a very fine line to tread successfully."

He gazes at me for a moment, then frowns. "I can see that. But you seem to be doing fine so far."

"But at what personal cost? I'm tied up in knots here."

"I like you tied up in knots." he smirks.

"That's not what I meant!" I splash him in exasperation. He gazes down at me, arching an eyebrow, "Did you just splash me?"

"Yes." _Holy shit... that look._

"Oh, Miss Chandler." he grabs me and pulls me onto his lap, sloshing water all over the floor. "I think we've done enough talking for now."

He clasps his hands on either side of my face and kisses me. Deeply. Possessing my mouth. Angling my head... controlling me. I moan against his lips. This is what he likes. This is what he's so good at. Everything ignites inside me and my fingers are in his hair, holding him to me, and I'm kissing him back and saying I want you too, the only way I know how. He groans, shifting me so I'm astride him, kneeling over him, his erection beneath me. He pulls back and looks at me, his eyes hooded, glowing and lustful. I drop my hands to grab on to the edge of the bath, but he grips both my wrists and pulls my hands behind my back, holding them together in one hand.

"I'm going to have you now." he whispers, and lifts me so that I'm hovering over him. "Ready?" he breathes.

"Yes." I whisper, and he eases me on to him, slowly, exquisitely slowly...filling me... watching me as he takes me. I groan, closing my eyes and I revel in the sensation, the stretching fullness. He flexes his hips, and I gasp, leaning forward, resting my forehead against his.

"Please, let my hands go." I whisper.

"Don't touch me." he pleads, and releasing my wrists, he grabs my hips.

Clasping the bath ledge, I move up and then down slowly, opening my eyes to gaze at him. He's watching me, his mouth open, his breathing halted, stilted—his tongue between his teeth. He looks so... hot! We're wet and slippery and moving against each other. I lean down and kiss him. He closes his eyes. Tentatively, I bring my hands up to his head and run my fingers through his hair, not taking my lips from his mouth. This is allowed. He likes this. I like this. And we move together. I tug his hair, tipping his head back and deepening the kiss, riding him—faster now, picking up the rhythm. I moan against his mouth. He starts to lift me faster, faster...holding my hips. Kissing me back. We are wet mouths and tongues, tangled hair, and moving hips. All sensation... all consuming again. I'm close... I'm starting to recognize this delicious tightening... quickening.

And the water...it's swirling around us, our own whirlpool, a stirring vortex as our movements become more frantic... sloshing water everywhere, mirroring what's happening inside me... and I just don't care.

I love this man. I love his passion, the effect I have on him. I love that he's flown so far to see me. I love that he cares about me... he cares. It's so unexpected, so fulfilling. He is mine, and I am his.

"Catherine." he breathes.

And I climax, my orgasm ripping through me, a turbulent, passionate apogee that devours me whole. And suddenly Vincent crushes me to him... his arms wrapped around my back as he finds his release.

"Catherine!" he cries, and it's a wild invocation, stirring and touching the depths of my soul. And in this moment, I know that I would do anything for this man. Vincent Keller has completely rocked my world and showed me a piece of his. And his world is beautiful, despite the darkness that consumes him. He's beautiful, despite his lifestyle. And I think back at what my mother had said to me earlier.

_Go with your gut. What does that tell you, sweetheart?_

It tells me that all my thoughts and feelings have agreed with me... I know now more than ever that _I am indeed in love with Vincent Keller._

* * *

><p>We lie staring at each other, brown eyes to green, face-to-face, in the super king bed, both hugging our pillows on our fronts. Naked. Not touching. Just looking and admiring, covered by the sheet.<p>

"Do you want to sleep?" Vincent asks, his voice soft and full of concern.

"No. I'm not tired." I feel strangely energized. It's been so good to talk—i don't want to stop.

"What do you want to do?" he asks.

"Talk."

He smiles. "About what?"

"Stuff."

"What stuff?"

"You." I whisper.

"What about me?"

"What's your favorite film?"

He grins. "Today, it's _The Piano." _His grin is infectious.

"Of course. Silly me. Such a sad, exciting score, which no doubt you can play? So many accomplishments, Mr. Keller."

"And the greatest one is you, Miss Chandler."

"So I'm number sixteen?"

He frowns at me not comprehending. "Sixteen?"

"Number of women you've um... had sex with."

His lips quirk up, his eyes shining with incredulity. "Not exactly."

"You said fifteen." my confusion is obvious.

"I was referring to the number of women in my playroom. I thought that's what you meant. You didn't ask me how many women I'd had sex with."

"Oh." _Holy crap... there's more...How many? _I gape at him. "Vanilla?"

"No. You are my one vanilla conquest." he shakes his head, still grinning at me. _Why does he find this funny? And why am I grinning back at him like an idiot?_

"I can't give you a number, Catherine. I didn't put notches in the bedpost or anything."

"What are we talking—tens, hundreds... thousands?" My eyes grow wilder as the numbers get larger.

"Tens. We're in the tens, for pity's sake."

"All submissives?"

"Yes."

"Stop grinning at me." I scold him mildly, trying and failing to keep a straight face.

"I can't. You're funny." he chuckles.

"Funny peculiar or funny ha-ha?" I ask.

"A bit of both I think." his words mirror mine.

"That's damned cheeky, coming from you."

He leans across and kisses the tip of my nose, "This will shock you, Catherine. Ready?"

I nod, wide-eyed, still with the stupid grin on my face.

"All submissives in training, when I was training. There are places in and around Seattle that one can go and practice. Learn to do what I do." he says.

_What?!_

"Oh..." I blink at him.

"Yep, I've paid for sex, Catherine."

"That's nothing to be proud of," I mutter haughtily, "and you're right... I'm deeply shocked. And cross that I can't shock you."

"You wore my underwear." he whispers.

"Did that shock you?"

"Yes."

My inner goddess pole-vaults over the fifteen-foot bar.

"You didn't wear your panties to meet my parents." he continues.

"And it shocked you?" Now I'm shocked!

"Yes."

_Jeez, the bar's moved to sixteen feet._

"It seems I can only shock you in the underwear department." I murmur with a sigh.

"You told me you were a virgin. That's the biggest shock I've ever had." he says.

"Yeah... your expression was totally a Kodak moment." I giggle.

"You let me work you over with a riding crop." he whispers.

"Did that shock you?" I ask.

"Yep."

I grin. "Well, I may let you do it again."

"Oh, I do hope so, Miss Chandler. This weekend?"

"Okay." I agree shyly.

"Okay?"

"Yes. I'll go to the Red Room of Pain again."

There is a brief pause between us, both gazing at the other. Vincent breaks the silence. "You say my name."

"That shocks you?"

"The fact that I like it shocks me."

"Vincent." I whisper.

He grins. "I want to do something tomorrow." His eyes glow with excitement.

"What?" I ask nervously.

"A surprise. For you." his voice is low and soft. I raise an eyebrow and stifle a yawn at the same time.

"Am I boring you, Miss Chandler?" his tone is sardonic.

"Never." I whisper with a grin.

He leans across and kisses me gently on my lips. "Sleep babe." he commands, then switches off the light. And in this quiet moment as I close my eyes, spent and sated, I think I'm in the eye of the storm. And in spite of all he's said, and what he hasn't said, I don't think I've ever been this happy before in my life.

* * *

><p><em><strong>**This chapter was extremely long, I know lol. Thanks for your undying support and reviews. They are oh so helpful! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as me!**<strong>_


	24. Chapter 24

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*WARNING:<strong>** The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, ****graphic sexual content, and DOM/SUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*Extra:<strong>** I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires. **

_Italics represent Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 24-<strong>_

Vincent stands in a steel-barred cage. Wearing his soft, ripped jeans, his chest and feet are mouthwateringly naked, and he's staring at me. His private-joke smile is etched on his beautiful face and his eyes a molten brown. In his hands he holds a bowl of strawberries. He ambles with athletic grace to the front of the cage, gazing intently at me. Holding up a plump ripe strawberry, he extends his hand through the bars.

"Eat." he says, his tongue caressing the front of his palate as he enunciates the _t._

I try to move toward him, but I'm tethered, held back by some unseen force around my wrist, holding me. _Let me go! _

"Come eat." he says, smiling his delicious crooked smile. I pull and pull... _let me go!_ I want to scream and shout, but no sound emerges. I am mute. He stretches a little farther, and the berry is at my lips.

"Eat, Catherine." His mouth forms my name, lingering sensuality on each syllable. I open my mouth and bite, the cage disappears, and my hands are now free. I reach up to touch him, graze him with my fingertips along his amazingly ripped chest and torso.

"Catherine."

_No! _I moan.

"Come on, babe."

_No! I want to touch you!_

"Wake up."

_No, please!_

My eyes flicker unwillingly open for a split second. I'm in bed and someone is nuzzling my ear.

"Wake up, babe." Vincent whispers, and the effect of his sweet voice spreads through my veins like warm melted caramel. It's Vincent. _Jeez, it's still dark. _And the images of him from my dream persist, disconcerting and tantalizing in my head.

"Oh... no." I groan. I want back at his chest, back to my dream. _Why is he waking me? _It's the middle of the night, or so it feels. _Crap! Does he want sex—now? _

"Time to get up, Catherine. I'm going to switch on the sidelight." his voice is quiet.

"No." I groan.

"I want to chase the dawn with you." he says, kissing my face, my eyelids, the tip of my nose, my mouth, and I open my eyes. The sidelight is on. _Ugh! _

"Good morning, beautiful." he murmurs.

I groan, and he smiles. "You are not a morning person." he says.

Through the haze of light, I squint and see Vincent leaning over me, smiling. Amused. _Amused at me. Dressed! _In black.

"I thought you wanted sex." I grumble.

"Catherine, I always want to have sex with you. It's heartwarming to know that you feel the same." he says dryly. I gaze at him as my eyes adjust to the light, but he still looks amused... _thank heavens!_

"Of course I do, just not when it's so late." I mumble.

"It's not late, it's early. Come on—up you go. We're going out. I'll take a rain check on the sex."

"But I was having such a good dream." I whine.

"Dream about what?" he asks patiently.

"You." I blush.

"What was I doing this time?"

"Trying to feed me strawberries."

His lips twitch with a trace of a smile. "Dr. Marks could have a field day with that. Up—get dressed. Don't bother to shower, we can do that later."

_We!_

I sit up, and the sheet pools at my waist, revealing my body. He stands to give me room, his eyes dark.

"What time is it?" I ask as I yawn.

"Five thirty in the morning."

"Feels like three a.m."

"We don't have much time. I let you sleep as long as possible. Come on."

"Can't I have a shower, Vincent?"

He sighs. "If you a shower, I'll want one with you, and you and I both know what will happen next—the day will just go by. Come on."

He's excited. Like a small boy, he's iridescent with anticipation and excitement. It makes me smile.

"What are we doing?" I ask.

"It's a surprise. I told you." he smiles.

I can't help but grin at him. "Okay."

* * *

><p>I clamber out of bed and search for my clothes. Of course they are neatly folded on the chair beside my bed. He's laid out a pair of his jersey boxer briefs too—Ralph Lauren, no less. I slip them on, and he grins at me. Hmm, another piece of Vincent Keller's underwear—a trophy to add to my collection—along with the car, the BlackBerry, the Mac, his black jacket, and a set of valuable first editions. I shake my head at his largesse, and I frown as a scene from <em>Tess<em> crosses my mind: _the strawberry scene. _It evokes my dream. To hell with Dr. Marks—Frued would have a field day—and then he'd probably die trying to deal with Fifty Shades.

"I'll give you some room now that you're up." Vincent exits toward the living area, and I wander into the bathroom. I have needs to attend to, and I want a quick wash. Seven minutes later, I'm in the living area, scrubbed, brushed, and dressed in jeans, my camisole, and Vincent Keller's underwear. Vincent glances up from the small dining table where he's eating breakfast. _Breakfast! Jeez, at this hour?!_

"Eat." he says.

_Jesus... my dream. _I gape at him, thinking about his tongue on his palate. _Hmm, his expert tongue._

"Catherine." he says sternly, pulling me out of my reverie. It really is too early for me to eat. _How to handle this?_

"I'll have some tea. Can I take a croissant for later?"

He eyes me suspiciously, and I smile very sweetly. "Don't rain on my parade, Catherine." he warns softly.

"I will eat later when my stomach's woken up. About seven thirty a.m... okay?"

"Okay." he peers down at me. _Honestly! _I have to concentrate hard on not making a face at him.

"I want to roll my eyes at you."

"By all means, please do, and I guarantee that you will make my day." he says sternly.

I gaze up at the ceiling. "Well, a spanking would wake me up, I suppose." I purse my lips in quiet contemplation.

Vincent's mouth drops open.

"On the other hand, I don't want you to be all hot and bothered; the climate here is warm enough." I shrug nonchalantly. Vincent closes his mouth and tries very hard to look displeased, but fails hopelessly. I can see the humor lurking in the back of his eyes. "You are, as ever, challenging, Miss Chandler. Drink your tea."

I notice the Twinings label, and inside, my heart sings. _See, he does care, _my subconscious mouths at me. I sit and face him, drinking in his beauty. _Will I ever get enough of this man?_

As we leave the room, Vincent throws one of his hoodies at me.

"You'll need this." he whispers.

I look at him puzzled.

"Trust me." he grins, leans over and kisses me quickly on the lips, then grabs my hand and we head out.

* * *

><p>Outside, in the relative cool of the half light of predawn, the valet hands Vincent a set of keys to a flashy sports car with a soft top. I raise an eyebrow at Vincent, who smirks back at me.<p>

"You know, sometimes it's great being me." he says with a conspiratorial but smug grin that I simply can't help emulating. He's so lovable when he's playful and carefree. He opens my car door with an exaggerated bow, and in I climb. He's in such a good mood.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"You'll see." he grins at me as he slides into the driver seat, and we head out on Savannah Parkway. He programs the GPS and presses a switch on the steering wheel, and a classical orchestral piece fills the car.

"What's this?" I ask as the sweet, sweet sound of a hundred violin strings assails us.

"It's from La Traviata. An open by Verdi."

_Oh my... it's lovely._

"La Traviata? I've heard of that. I can't think where though. What does it mean?"

Vincent glances at me and smirks. "Well, literally, 'the woman led astray.' It's based on Alexandre Dumas's book, La Dame aux Camelias."

"Ah. I've read it."

"I thought you might've." he says.

"The doomed courtesan." I squirm uncomfortably in the plush leather seat. _Is he trying to tell me something? _"Hmm, it's a depressing story." I mutter.

"Too depressing? Do you want to choose some music? This is on my iPod." Vincent has that secret smile again.

I can't see his iPod anywhere. He taps the screen on the console between us, and behold—there is a playlist.

"You choose." his lips twitch up into a smile, and I know it's a challenge.

Vincent Keller's iPod, this should be interesting. I scroll through the touch screen and find the perfect song. I press play. I wouldn't have figured him a fan of Britney. The club-mix, techno beat assaults us both, and Vincent turns the volume down. Maybe it's too early for this?

"Toxic, eh?" Vincent grins.

"I don't know what you mean." I feign innocence. He turns the music down a little more, and inside I'm hugging myself. My inner goddess is standing on the podium awaiting her gold medal. _He turned the music down. Victory! _

"I didn't put that song on my iPod." he says casually, and puts foot down so that I'm thrown back into my seat as the car accelerates along the freeway.

_What? _He knows what he's doing, the bastard._ Who did? _And I have to listen to Britney going on and on. _Who...who?_

The song ends and the iPod shuffles to Damien Rice being mournful. _Who? Who? _I stare out the window, my stomach churning. _Who the hell put that song on his iPod?_

"It was Alex." he answers my unspoken thoughts. _How does he do that?!_

"Alex?"

"An ex, who put the song on my iPod."

Damien warbles away in the background as I sit stunned. _An ex... ex-submissive? An ex—_

"One of the fifteen?" I ask.

"Yes."

"What happened to her?" I whisper.

"We finished."

"Why?" _I'm curious now. __And I know it's too early for this type of conversation, but I gotta know. _

"She wanted more." his voice is low, introspective even, and he leaves the sentence hanging between us, ending it with that powerful little word again.

"And you didn't?" I ask before I can employ my brain-to-mouth filter. _Shit, do I want to know?_

He shakes his head, "I've never wanted more." he sighs a pause, "until I met you."

I gasp, reeling. _Isn't this what I want? _He wants more. _He wants it, too! _My inner goddess has back-flipped off the podium and is doing cartwheels around the stadium. _It's not just me._

"What happened to the other fourteen?" I ask.

_Yes! He's actually talking! Take advantage, Catherine!_

"You want a list? Divorced, beheaded, died?" he smirks.

_He's kidding, right?_

"You're not Henry VIII."

"Okay. In no particular, I've only had long-term relationships with four women, apart from Gabriella."

"Gabriella?"

"Mrs. Robinson to you." he half smiles his secret-private-joke smile. _Gabriella! Holy fuck! _The evil one has a name and it's all foreign sounding. A vision of a glorious, pale-skinned vamp with raven hair and ruby-red lips comes to mind, and I know that she's beautiful. _I must not dwell. I must not fucking dwell!_

"What happened to the four?" I ask to distract myself.

"So inquisitive, so eager for information, Miss Chandler." he scolds, playfully.

"Oh, Mr. When Is Your Period Due?"

"Catherine—a man needs to know these things."

"Does he?... Do you?" I smirk.

"I do."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to get you pregnant."

_Oh, well, that's a very good reason I suppose._

"Neither do I! Well, not for a few years yet." I murmur.

Vincent blinks, startled, then visibly relaxes. _Okay. Vincent doesn't want children. Now or never? _I'm reeling from his sudden, unprecedented attack of candor. _Perhaps it's the early morning? Something in the Georgia water? The Georgia air? What else do I want to know? Carpe diem._

"So the other four, what happened?" I ask.

"One met someone else. The other three wanted—more. I wasn't in the market for more then."

"And the others?" I press.

He glances at me briefly and just shakes his head. "Just didn't work out."

_Wow!_

I glance in the side mirror of the car and I notice the soft swell of pink and aquamarine in the sky behind the car. Dawn is following us.

"Where are we going?" I ask, perplexed, gazing out at Interstate 95. We're heading south, that's all I know.

"An airfield." he murmurs.

"We're not going back to Seattle, are we?" I gasp, alarmed. I haven't said good-bye to my mother. _Dammit! She's expecting us for dinner!_

He laughs. "No, Catherine, we're going to indulge in my second favorite pastime."

"Second?" I frown at him.

"Yep... I told you my favorite this morning."

I glance at his glorious profile, frowning, racking my brain.

"Indulging in you, Miss Chandler. That's got to be at the top of my list. Any way I can get you."

_Oh..._

"Well, that's quite high up on my list of diverting, kinky priorities, too." I mutter, blushing.

"I'm pleased to hear it." he murmurs dryly.

"So, airfield?"

He grins at me. "Soaring."

The term rings a vague bell. He's mentioned it before.

"We're going to chase the dawn, Catherine." he turns and grins at me as the GPS urges him to turn right into what looks like with a sign reading **BRUNSWICK SOARING ASSOCIATION.**

_Gliding! We're going gliding?_

He switches off the engine. "You up for this?" he asks, turning in his seat to face me.

"You're flying?"

"Yes."

"Then, yes." I don't hesitate. He grins and leans forward and kisses me. "Another first, Miss Chandler." he says as he climbs out of the car.

_First? What sort of first? First time flying a glider?... SHIT!_ _No—he said he's done it before. _I relax.

* * *

><p>He walks around to my side of the car and opens the door for me. I climb out and instantly, Vincent takes my hand, webbing our fingers together as he leads me around the building to a large stretch of tarmac where several planes are parked. Waiting beside them is a man with a shaved head and a wild look in his eye, accompanied by Sam.<p>

_Sam! _I wonder if Vincent goes anywhere without that man. I beam at him, and he smiles kindly back at me.

"Mr. Keller, this is your tow pilot, Curtis Benson." says Sam.

Vincent and Benson shake hands and strike up a conversation that sounds very technical about wind speed, directions, and the like.

"Hello, Sam." I murmur shyly.

"Miss Chandler." he nods a greeting at me, and I frown. "Cat." he corrects himself. "He's been hell on wheels the last few days. Glad we're here." he says conspiratorially.

_Oh, this is news. Why? Surely not because of me! _Revelation Thursday! Must be something in the Savannah water that makes these men loosen up a bit.

"Catherine." Vincent summons me. "Come on." he holds out his hand.

"See you later." I smile at Sam, and giving me a quick salute, he heads back to the parking lot.

"Mr. Benson, this is my girlfriend, Catherine Chandler." Vincent murmurs, squeezing my hand.

"Pleased to meet you." I smile as we shake hands. Benson gives me a dazzling smile back. "Likewise." he says, and I can tell from his accent that he's British.

As I take Vincent's hand, there's a mounting excitement in my belly. _Wow... gliding! _We follow Curtis Benson out across the tarmac toward the runway. He and Vincent keep up a running conversation. I catch the gist. We will be in a Blanik L-23, which is apparently better than the L-13, although this is open to debate. Curtis will be flying a Piper Pawnee. He's been flying tail draggers for about five years now. It all means nothing to me, but glancing up at Vincent, he's so animated, so in his element, it's a pleasure to watch him.

The plane itself is long, sleek, and white with orange stripes. It has a small cockpit with two seats, one in front, and one in back. It's attached by a long white cable to a small, conventional single-propeller plane. Curtis opens the large, clear Perspex dome that frames the cockpit, allowing us to climb in.

"First we need to strap you into a parachute." Vincent murmurs.

_Parachute?! OH GOD! AM I GOING TO DIE?! _I'm beginning to feel that this is more unsafe than it looks.

"I don't know if I can do this." I yell over the starting of engines of Curtis' plane. Vincent cups my face, strumming my cheek with his thumb. "You can, I know you can—because I'll be right there with you. I promise I won't let anything happen to you, Catherine."

I nod rapidly, "Parachute. Where is mine?" I whisper.

He grins as he grabs one and holds it in front of me. "I'll take care of it." he smiles, showing his pearly whites.

"I'll fetch some ballast." Curtis says, and heads towards the plane.

"You like strapping me into things." I observe dryly.

"Miss Chandler, you have no idea. Here, step into the straps."

I do as I'm told, placing my arm on his shoulder. Vincent stiffens but doesn't move. Once my feet are in the loops, he pulls the parachute up, and I place my arms through the shoulder straps. Deftly he fastens the harness and tightens all the straps.

"There. You'll do." Vincent says mildly, but his eyes are gleaming. "Do you have your hair tie from yesterday?" he adds.

I nod. "You want me to put my hair up?"

"Yes."

I quickly pull my hair up into a messy high-on-the-head bun.

"In you go." Vincent commands. _He's still so bossy_. I go to climb into the back.

"No, front. The pilot sits in the back." he says.

"But won't you be able to see?"

"I'll see plenty, Catherine. Trust me." he grins.

I don't think I have ever seen him so happy—bossy, yes. But happy? No. I clamber in, settling down into the leather seat. It's surprisingly comfortable. Vincent leans over, pulls the harness over my shoulders, reaches between my legs for the lower belt, and slots it into the fastener that rests against my belly. He tightens all the restraining straps.

"Hmm, twice in one morning. I'm beginning to think I'm the luckiest man alive." he whispers, smirking. He kisses me quickly. "This won't take long. Twenty, maybe thirty minutes tops. Thermals aren't great this time of the morning, but it's so breathtaking up there at this hour. I hope you're not nervous anymore."

"Excited." I beam.

_Where did this ridiculous grin come from?_ Actually, part of me is still terrified. My inner goddess is under a blanket behind the sofa.

"Good." he grins back, stroking my face, then disappears from view. I hear and feel his movements as he climbs in behind me. Of course he's strapped me in so tightly, I can't move around to see him... _typical, pompous ass!_

But he's _my _pompous ass—and a fine one at that.

We are very low on the ground. In front of me is a panel of dials and levers and a big stick thingy. I leave everything alone. Curtis appears with a cheerful grin as he checks my straps and leans in and checks the cockpit floor. I think it's the ballast.

"Yep, that's secure. First time?" he asks.

_Oh, for the love of God, DON'T REMIND ME!_

I swallow hard, "Yes." I manage to say as my nerves begin taking over me.

"You'll love it." he smiles.

"So I've heard." I smile back nervously. "Thanks, Mr. Benson."

"Call me Curt." he turns to Vincent, "Okay?"

"Yep, let's go." Vincent says.

* * *

><p>At this point, I am so glad that I haven't ate anything yet. I'm excited, nervous, and scared, and I think my breakfast would be on the floor of the glider by now. Once again, I'm putting my life in the hands of this beautiful man's skilled hands. Curt shuts the cockpit lid, strolls over to the plane in front, and climbs in.<p>

_Jeez, I'm really doing this! _Curt taxis slowly down the runway, and as the cable takes the strain, we suddenly jolt forward. We're off. I hear the chatter over the radio set behind me. I think it's Curt talking to the tower, but I can't make out what he's saying. As the Piper picks up speed, so do we. It's very bumpy, and in front of us the single prop plane is still on the ground. _Jesus, will we ever get up? _And suddenly, my stomach disappears and my heart drops, free-falling through my body to the ground. We're airborne.

"Here we go, Cat!" Vincent shouts from behind me. And we are in our own bubble, just us two. All I hear is the sound of the wind ripping past and the distant hum of the Piper's engine. I'm gripping the edge of my seat with both hands, so tightly my knuckles are white. We head west, inland, away from the rising sun, gaining height, crossing over fields and woods and homes and Interstate 95.

_Oh my. _This is truly amazing, above us only sky. The light is extraordinary, diffuse and warm in hue, and I remember Patrick rambling on about _'magic hour' _a time of day that photographers adore—_this is it... just after dawn, and I'm in it... with Vincent._

Abruptly, I'm reminded of Patrick's show. _Hmm._ I need to tell Vincent. I wonder briefly how he'll react. But I won't worry about that, not now. I'm going to enjoy the ride.

My ears pop as we gain height, and the ground slips farther away. It's so... peaceful. I completely get why Vincent likes to be up here. Away from his BlackBerry and all the pressures of his job.

The radio crackles into life and Curt mentions three thousand feet. _Oh, Jesus... that sounds high. _I check the ground, and I can no longer clearly distinguish anything down there.

"Release." Vincent says into the radio, and suddenly the Piper disappears and the pulling sensation provided by the small plane ceases. We're floating... floating over Georgia!

_Oh my, how thrilling!_ The plane banks and turns as the wing dips and we spiral toward the sun. _Icarus. This is it! _I'm flying close to the sun, but he's with me, leading me. I gasp at the realization. We spiral and spiral, and the view in this morning light is spectacular.

"Hold on tight!" he shouts, and we dip again, only this time he doesn't stop. Suddenly, I'm upside down, looking at the ground through the top of the cockpit canopy.

I squeal loudly, my arms automatically lashing out, my hands splayed on the Perspex to stop me from falling. I can hear him laughing. _Laughing! The bastard! _But his joy is infectious, and I'm laughing with him, as he rights the plane.

"I'm glad I didn't have breakfast!" I shout at him.

"Yes, in hindsight, it's good you didn't, because I'm going to do that again."

He dips the plane once more until we are upside down again. This time, because I'm prepared, I hang on to the harness, but it makes me grin and giggle like a fool. He levels the plane once more.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he calls.

"Yes. Very!" I shout back at him.

We fly, swooping majestically through the air, listening to the wind and the silence, in the early morning light. _Who could ask for more?_

"See the joystick in front of you?" he shouts again. I look at the stick that is jerking between my legs. _Oh no, where's he going with this?_

"Grab hold."

_Oh shit. He's going to make me fly the plane! No!_

"Go on, Catherine. Grab it." he urges more vehemently. Tentatively, I grasp it and feel the pitch and yaw of what I assume are rudders and paddles or whatever keeps this thing in the air.

"Hold tight... keep it steady. See the middle dial in front? Keep the needle dead center." he shouts. My heart is in my mouth. _Oh my God, I'm flying the glider... I'm soaring!_

"Good girl." Vincent sounds delighted.

"I'm amazed you let me take control." I shout.

"You'd be amazed what I'd let you do, Miss Chandler. Back to me now."

I feel the joystick move suddenly, and I let go as we spiral down several feet, my ears starting to pop again. The ground is getting closer, and it feels like we could be hitting it shortly. _Jeez, that's scary._

After another circle, we dip, and suddenly we are on the ground with a brief thump, racing along the grass—_holy shit! _My teeth chatter as we bump at an alarming speed along the ground, until we finally come to a stop. The plane sways then dips to the right. I take a deep lungful of air while Vincent leans over and opens the cockpit lid, clambering out and stretching.

"How was that?" he asks, and his eyes are a shining, dazzling golden brown. He leans down to unbuckle me.

"That was extraordinary. Thank you." I whisper.

"Was it more?" he asks, his voice tinged with hope.

"Much more." I breathe, and he grins.

"Come on." he holds out his hand for me, and I clamber out of the cockpit. As soon as I'm out, he grabs me and holds me flush against him. Body against body. Suddenly his hand is in my hair, tugging it so my head tips back, and his other hand travels down to the base of my spine. He kisses me, long, hard, and passionately, his tongue in my mouth. His breathing is mounting, his ardor... _Holy cow! _His erection... _Sweet Lord! And we're in a field! _But I don't care. My hands twist in his hair, anchoring him to me. I want him. Here. Now. On the ground. He breaks away and gazes down at me, his eyes now dark and luminous in the early morning light, full of raw, arrogant sensuality. _Wow... _Vincent Keller takes my breath away!

"Breakfast." he whispers, making it sound deliciously erotic. _How can he make bacon and eggs __sound like forbidden fruit? _It's an extraordinary skill. He turns, clasping my hand, and we head back toward the car.

* * *

><p>Back in the car, as we head back along Interstate 95 toward Savannah, my phone alarm goes off. <em>Ah yes... my pill.<em>

"What's that?" Vincent asks, curious, glancing at me.

I fumble in my purse for the packet. "Alarm for my pill." I mutter as my cheeks flush. His lips quirk up, "Good. I hate condoms."

I flush some more. He's as patronizing as ever.

"I liked that you introduced me to Curt as your girlfriend." I murmur.

"Isn't that what you are?" he raises an eyebrow.

"Am I? I thought you wanted a submissive?"

"So did I, Catherine, and I do. But I've told you, I want more too."

_Oh my. _He's coming around, and hope surges through me, leaving me breathless. "I'm very happy that you want more." I whisper.

"We aim to please, Miss Chandler." he smirks as we pull into the International House of Pancakes.

"IHOP." I grin back at him. I don't believe it. _Who would have thought...? _Vincent Keller at IHOP.

* * *

><p>It's 8:30 a.m. but quiet in the restaurant. It smells of sweet batter, fried food, and disinfectant. <em>Hmm... not such an enticing aroma. <em>Vincent leads me to a booth.

"I would never have pictured you here." I say as we slide into a booth.

"My dad used to bring us to one of these whenever my mom went away to a medical conference. It was our secret." He smiles at me, eyes dancing, then picks up a menu, running a hand through his wayward hair.

_Oh, I want to run my hands through that hair. _I pick up a menu and examine it. I realize I'm starving.

"I know what I want." he breathes, his voice low and husky. I glance up at him, and he's staring at me in that way that tightens all the muscles in my belly and takes my breath away, his eyes dark and smoldering. I gaze at him, my blood singing in my veins, answering his call.

"I want what you want." I whisper.

He inhales sharply. "Here?" he asks suggestively, raising an eyebrow at me, smiling wickedly, his teeth trapping the tip of his tongue. _Oh my... sex in IHOP! _His expression changes, growing darker.

"Don't bite your lip." he orders, "Not here, not now." His eyes harden momentarily, and for a moment, he looks so deliciously dangerous. "If I can't have you here, don't tempt me."

"Hi, my name's Heather. What can I get for you...er...folks... er...today, this mornin'...?" Her voice trials off, stumbling over her words as she gets an eyeful of Mr. Beautiful opposite me. She flushes scarlet, and a small ounce of sympathy for her bubbles unwelcome into my consciousness because he still does that to me. Her presence allows me to escape briefly from his sensual glare.

"Catherine?" he prompts me, ignoring her, and I don't think anyone could squeeze as much carnality into my name as he does at that moment. I swallow, praying that I don't turn the same color as poor Heather.

"I told you, I want what you want." I keep my voice soft, low, and he looks at me hungrily. _Jeez! _My inner goddess swoons. _Am I up to this game?_

Heather looks from me to him and back again. She's practically the same color as her ruby red apron.

"Shall I give you folks another minute to decide?"

"No. We know what we want." Vincent's mouth twitches with a small, sexy smile. "We'll have two portions of the original buttermilk pancakes with maple syrup ad bacon on the side, two glasses of orange juice, one black coffee with skim milk, and one English breakfast tea, if you have it." says Vincent, not taking his eyes off me.

"Thank you, sir. Will that be all?" Heather whispers, looking anywhere but at the two of us. We both turn to stare at her, and she flushes crimson again and scuttles away.

"You know, it's really not fair." I glance down at the Formica tabletop, tracing a pattern on it with my index finger, trying to sound nonchalant.

"What's not fair, Catherine?"

"How you disarm people. Women. Me."

"Do I disarm you?"

I snort, "All the time."

"It's just looks, Catherine." he says mildly.

"No, Vincent... it's much more than that."

His brow creases, "You disarm me totally, Miss Chandler. Your innocence. It cuts through all the crap."

"Is that why you've changed your mind?" I ask.

"Changed my mind?"

"Yes—about... er... us?" I stutter.

He strokes his chin thoughtfully with his long, skilled fingers. "I don't think I've changed my mind per se. We just need to redefine our parameters, redraw our battle lines, if you will. We can make this work, I'm sure. I want you submissive in my playroom. I will punish you if you digress from the rules. Other than that... well, I think it's all up for discussion. Those are my requirements, Miss Chandler. What say you to that?"

"So I get to _sleep_ with you? In _your_ bed?" I ask.

"Is that what you want?"

"Yes."

"I agree then. Besides, I sleep very well when you're in my bed. I had no idea." his brow creases as his voice fades.

"I was frightened you'd leave me if I didn't agree to all of it." I whisper.

"I'm not going anywhere, Catherine. Besides..." he trails off, and after some thought, he adds, "We're following your advice, your definition: compromise. You e-mailed it to me. And so far, it's working for me."

"I love that you want more." I murmur shyly.

"I know."

"How do you know?"

"Trust me, I just do." he smirks at me. He's hiding something.

_But what?_

Heather arrives with our breakfast and our conversation ceases temporarily. My stomach rumbles, reminding me how ravenous I am. Vincent watches with annoying approval as I devour everything on my plate.

"Can I treat you?" I ask Vincent.

"Treat me how?"

"Pay for this meal?"

Vincent snorts. "I don't think so." he scoffs.

"Please, I want to."

He frowns at me, "Are you trying to completely emasculate me?"

"This is probably the only place that I'll be able to afford to pay."

"Catherine, I appreciate the thought. I do. But, no."

I purse my lips.

"Don't scowl at me." he threatens, his eyes glinting ominously.

Of course he doesn't ask me for my mother's address. He already knows it...

_Stalker!_

* * *

><p>When he pulls outside the house, I don't comment. <em>What's the point?<em>

"Do you want to come in?" I ask shyly.

"I need to work, Catherine, but I'll be back this evening. What time?"

"I ignore the unwelcome stab of disappointment. _Why do I want to spend every single minute with this controlling sex god? Oh yes. I've fallen in love with him and he can fly._

"Thank you... for the more." I whisper.

"My pleasure, Catherine." he kisses me, and I inhale his sexy Vincent smell.

"I'll see you later?" I ask for reassurance.

"Try to stop me." he grins, kissing me again, passionately. He pulls away, leaning his forehead against mine as our eyes lock once more. "Dammit woman... the things you do to me." he whispers on my lips. I kiss him softly before climbing out of the car. I wave good-bye as he drives off into the Georgia sunshine. I'm still wearing his hoodie and his briefs, and I'm too warm.

* * *

><p>In the kitchen, my mom is in a complete flap. It's not every day she has to entertain a multi-zillionare, and it's stressing her out.<p>

"How are you, darling?" she asks, and I flush because she must know what I was doing last night.

"I'm goo. Vincent took me gliding this morning." I hope the new info will distract her.

"Gliding? As in a small plane with no engine? That sort of gliding?"

I nod.

"Wow." She's speechless—a novel concept for my mother. She gapes at me, but eventually recovers herself and resumes her original line of questioning.

"How was last night? Did you talk?"

_Jeez. _I flush bright scarlet.

"We talked—last night and today. It's getting better." I smile.

"Good." She turns her attention back to the four cookbooks she has open on the kitchen table.

"Mom... if you like, I'll cook this evening."

"Oh, honey, that's kind of you, but I want to do it."

"Okay." I grimace, knowing full well that my mother's cooking is pretty hit or miss. Perhaps she's improved since she moved to Savannah with Bob. There was a time I wouldn't subject anyone to cooking... even—_who do I hate? Ah, yes—_Mrs. Robinson—Gabriella. Well, maybe her. _Will I ever meet this damned woman?_

I decide to send a quick thank-you to Vincent.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Soaring as Opposed to Sore-ing

**Date:** June 2 2011 10:20 EST

**To: **Vincent Keller

Sometimes, you really know how to show a girl a good time.

Thank You.

Cat x

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Soaring vs. Sore-ing

**Date:** June 2 2011 10:24 EST

**To:** Catherine Chandler

I'll take either of those over your snoring. I had a good time, too.

But I always do when I'm with you.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** SNORING

**Date: **June 2 2011 10:26 EST

**To: **Vincent Keller

I DO NOT SNORE! And if I do, it's very ungallant of you to point it out.

You are no gentleman, Mr. Keller! And you are in the Deep South, too!

Cat

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Somniloquy

**Date:** June 2 2011 10:28 EST

**To:** Catherine Chandler

I have never claimed to be a gentleman, Catherine, and I think I have demonstrated that point to you on numerous occasions. I'm not intimidated by your SHOUTY capitals. But I will confess to a small white lie: no, you don't snore, but you do talk. And its fascinating.

What happened to my kiss?

Vincent Keller

Cad & CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><em>Holy shit! I know I talk in my sleep. Tess has told me enough times. What the hell did I say? Oh no!<em>

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Catherine Chandler

**Subject: **Spill the Beans

**Date: **June 2 2011 10:32 EST

**To: **Vincent Keller

You are a cad and a scoundrel. Definitely no gentleman.

So, what did I say? No kisses for you until you talk!

Catherine

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Vincent Keller

**Subject: **Sleeping Talking Beauty

**Date:** June 2 2011 10:35 EST

**To: **Catherine Chandler

It would be most ungallant of me to say, and I have already been chastised for that. But if you behave yourself, I may tell you this evening. I do have to go into a meeting now.

Laters, baby.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Cad & Scoundrel, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><em>Right! <em>Suppose I've said I hate him, or worse still, that I love him, in my sleep. Oh, I hope not. I'm not ready to tell him that, and I'm sure he's not ready to hear it, if he ever wants to hear it. I scowl at my computer and decide that whatever Mom cooks, I'll make bread to vent my frustrations while kneading the dough.

* * *

><p>Mom has decided on gazpacho soup and BBQ with steaks marinated in olive oil, galic, and lemon. Vincent likes meat, and it's simple to do. Bob has volunteered to man the BBQ grill. <em>What is it about men and fire? <em>I ponder as I trail after my mother through the super-market. As we browse the raw meat cabinet, my phone rings. I scramble for it, thinking it may be Vincent. I don't recognize the number.

"Hello?" I answer breathlessly.

"Catherine Chandler?"

"Yes."

"It's Tyler Morgan from SIP."

"Oh—hi."

"I'm calling to offer you the job of assistant to Mr. Gabriel Lowan. We'd like you to start on Monday."

"Wow... That's great! Thank you!" I nearly scream in excitement.

"You know the salary details?" Tyler says.

"Yes. Yes... that's—I mean, I accept your offer. I'd love to come and work you." I'm in complete shock!

"Excellent! We'll see you Monday then. Be there by 8:30 a.m."

"See you then. Good-bye. And thank you!" I say, hanging up as I beam at my mom.

"You have a job?" mom asks.

I nod gleefully, and she squeals and hugs me in the middle of the super-market.

Congratulations, darling! We have to buy some champagne!" She's clapping her hands and jumping up and down. _Is she forty-two or twelve?_

I glance down at my phone and frown; there's a missed call from Vincent. He never phones me. I call him straight back.

"Catherine." he answers immediately.

"Hi." I murmur shyly.

"I have to return to Seattle. Something's come up. I'm on my way to Hilton Head now. Please let your mother know that I apologize for not being able to make dinner." he sounds very business-like.

"Nothing serious, I hope?" I mutter.

"I have a situation that I have to deal with. I'll see you tomorrow. I'll send Sam to pick you up from the airport if I can't come get you myself." He sounds cold. Angry even. But for the first time, I don't immediately think it's me.

"Okay. I hope you sort out your situation. Have a safe flight." I whisper.

"You too, babe." he breathes, and with those words, my Vincent is back. Then he hangs up.

_Oh no..._ The last 'situation' he had was my virginity. _Jeez, I hope it's nothing like that! _I gaze at my mom. He earlier jubilation has meta-morphed into concern.

"It's Vincent. He had to go back to Seattle. He apologizes." I mumble.

"Oh! That's a shame, darling. We can still have our BBQ, and now we have something to celebrate—your new job! You have to tell me all about it!"

* * *

><p>It's late afternoon and mom and I are lying beside the pool. My mother has relaxed to the point where she's literally horizontal now that Mr. Megabucks is not coming to dinner. As I lie in the sun, endeavoring to lose the pale, I think about yesterday evening and breakfast today. I think about Vincent, and my ridiculous grin refuses to subside. It keeps creeping across my face, unbidden and disconcerting, as I recall our various conversations and what we did... what he did.<p>

There seems to be a tidal shift in Vincent's attitude. He denies it, but he admits he's trying for more. _What could have changed? What has altered since he sent his long e-mail and when I saw him yesterday? What has he doesn't? _I sit up suddenly, almost spilling my soda. He had dinner with...her. Gabriella.

_Fuck! _My scalp prickles at the realization. _Did she say something to him?_ Oh... to have been a fly on the wall during their dinner. I could have landed in her soup or on her wine glass and chocked her.

"What is it, Cat, honey?" Mom asks, startled from her torpor.

"I'm just having a moment, Mom. What time is it?"

"About six thirty p.m., darling."

_Hmm... he wouldn't have landed yet. Can I ask him? Should I ask him? _Or perhaps she has nothing to do with it. I fervently hope so. _What did I say in my sleep? Crap! _Some un-guarded remark while dreaming about him, I bet. Whatever it is, or was, I hope the sea change is coming from within him and not because of _her._

I'm sweltering in the damned heat. I need another dip in the pool.

As I get ready for bed, I switch on the mean machine. I have heard nothing from Vincent. Not even a word that he's arrived safely back to Seattle. I need to know.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Safe Arrival?

**Date:** June 2 2011 22:32 EST

**To:** Vincent Keller

Dear Sir,

Please let me know that you've arrived safely. I'm starting to worry. Thinking of you!

Your Catherine x

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Vincent Keller

**Subject: **Sorry

**Date:** June 2 2011 19:36

**To:** Catherine Chandler

Dear Miss Chandler,

I've arrived safely, and please accept my apologies for not letting you know. I don't want to cause you any worry. It's heartwarming to know that you care for me. I'm thinking of you, too, and as ever looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p>I sigh. Vincent is back to formality.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** The Situation

**Date:** June 2 2011 22:40 EST

**To:** Vincent Keller

Dear Mr. Keller,

I think it's very evident that I care for you deeply. How could you doubt that?

I hope your "situation" is under control.

Your Catherine x

P.S.: Are you going to tell me what I said in my sleep?

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject: **Pleading the Fifth

**Date:** June 2 2011 19:45

**To: **Catherine Chandler

Dear Miss Chandler,

I like very much that you care for me. The "situation" here is not yet resolved.

With regard to your P.S., the answer is no.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject: **Pleading Insanity

**Date:** June 2 2011 22:48 EST

**To: **Vincent Keller

I hope it was amusing. But you should know I can't accept any responsibility for what comes out of my mouth when I'm unconscious. In fact—you probably misheard me.

A man of your advanced years is surely a little deaf.

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Pleading Guilty

**Date: **June 2 2011 19:52

**To:** Catherine Chandler

Dear Miss Chandler,

Sorry, could you speak up? I can't hear you.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Pleading Insanity Again

**Date:** June 2 2011 22:54 EST

**To: **Vincent Keller

You are driving me crazy!

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** I Hope So...

**Date:** June 2 2011 19:59

**To: **Catherine Chandler

Dear Miss Chandler,

I intend to do exactly that on Friday evening. Looking forward to it. ;)

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdins, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Grrrrr

**Date:** June 2 2011 23:02 EST

**To: **Vincent Keller

I am officially pissed at you!

Good night.

Miss C. E. Chandler

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Wild Cat

**Date:** June 2 2011 20:05

**To:** Catherine Chandler

Are you growling at me, Miss Chandler? I possess a cat of my own for growlers.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p>Cat of his own? I've never seen a cat at his place. No, I'm not going to answer him. Oh, he can be so exasperating sometimes. Fifty shades of exasperating. I clamber into bed and lie down, staring at the ceiling as my eyes adjust to the dark. I hear another ping from my computer. I'm not going to look. No, definitely not. No, I'm not going to look. <em>Gahhh! <em>Like the fool I am, I can't resist the lure of Vincent Keller's words.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** What You Said in Your Sleep

**Date:** June 2 2011 20:20

**To: **Catherine Chandler

Catherine,

I'd rather hear you say the words that you uttered in your sleep when you're conscious, that's why I won't tell you. Go to sleep. You'll need to be rested with what I have in mind for you tomorrow.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><em>Oh no... What have I said?! <em>If it's as bad as I think, I'm sure I will never find the guts to say them to his face while I'm conscious. _Oh, God... what have I said?!_

* * *

><p><em><strong>** O.O …... I may make you all suffer a week after this chapter. But if I even attempted, I'm sure Janell would put me in the ground ROTF! Anyways, it will probably be tomorrow when I update again. Hope you all enjoyed this. XOXO! REVIEWS!**<strong>_


	25. Chapter 25

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*WARNING:<strong>** The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, ****graphic sexual content, and DOM/SUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*Extra:<strong>** I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires. **

_Italics represent Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 25-<strong>_

My mother hugs me tightly.

"Follow your heart, darling, and please—try not to over-think things. Relax ad enjoy yourself. You're so young, sweetheart. You have so much of life to experience yet, just let it happen. You deserve the best of everything." She whispers in my ear, her heartfelt words comforting. She kisses my hair.

"Oh, Mom." Hot, unwelcome tears prick my eyes as I cling to her.

"Darling, you know what they say. You have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince." mom says, caressing my cheek.

I give her a lopsided, bittersweet smile. "I think I've kissed a prince, Mom. I hope he doesn't turn into a frog."

She gives me her most endearing, motherly, absolute-unconditional-love smile, and I marval at the love I feel for this woman as we hug again.

"Cat, they're calling your flight." Bob's voice is anxious.

"Will you visit, Mom?" I ask.

"Of course, darling. Soon. Love you."

"Me, too. I love you." I whisper, hugging her again.

Her eyes are red with unshed tears as she releases me. I hate leaving her. I hug Bob and, turning, head to the gate. I don't have time for the first class lounge today. I will myself not to look back. But I do... and Bob is holding my mom, and tears are streaming down her face. I can't hold mine back any longer. I put my head down and proceed to the gate, keeping my eyes on the shiny white floor, blurred through my watery tears.

* * *

><p>Once on board, in the luxury of first class, I curl up in my seat and try to compose myself. It's always painful to wrench myself away from my mother... she is scatty, disorganized, but newly insightful, and she loves me. Unconditional love—what every child deserves from its parents. I frown at my wayward thoughts and, pulling out my BlackBerry, stare at it despondently.<p>

_What does Vincent know of love? _Seems he didn't get the unconditional love he was entitiled to during his very early years. My heart twists, and my mother's words waft like a zephyr through my mind: _Yes, Catherine. Hell, what do you need? A neon sign flashing on his forehead? _She thinks Vincent loves me, but then again, she's my mother... of course she'd think that. She thinks I deserve the best of everything. I frown. It's true, and in a moment of startling clarity, I see it. It's very simple: I want his love. I _need _Vincent Keller to love me. This is why I'm so reticent about our relationship. Because on some basic, fundamental level, I recognize within me a deep-seated compulsion to be loved and cherished.

And because of his fifty shades, I'm holding myself back. The BDSM is a distraction fro mthe real issue. The sex is amazing, he's wealthy, he's beautiful, but this is all meaningless without his love. He doesn't even love himself. I recall his self-loathing, _her_ love being the only form he found _acceptable. _Punished, whipped, beaten, whatever their relationship entailed—he feels undeserving of love. _Why does he feel like that? How can he feel like that? _His words haunt me: _It's very hard to grow up in a perfect world, with a perfect family when you're not perfect._

I close my eyes, imagining his pain, and I can't begin to comprehend it. I shudder as I remember that I may have divulged too much. _What have I confessed to Vincent in my sleep? What secrets have I revealed?_

I stare at the BlackBerry in the vague hope that it will give me some answers. Rather unsurprisingly, it's not very forthcoming. As we haven't taken off yet, I decide to e-mail my Fifty Shades.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject: **Homeward Bound

**Date: **June 3 2011 12:53 EST

**To: **Vincent Keller

Dear Mr. Keller,

I'm once again ensconced in first class, for which I thank you. I'm counting the minutes until I see you this evening and perhaps torturing the truth out of you about my nocturnal admissions.

Your Catherine x

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject: **Homeward Bound

**Date:** June 2 2011 09:58

**To: **Catherine Chandler

Catherine, I look forward to seeing you.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

His reply makes me frown. It sounds clipped and formal, not his usual witty, pithy style.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Homeward Bound

**Date: **June 3 2011 13:01 EST

**To:** Vincent Keller

Dearest Mr. Keller,

I hope everything is okay re: "the situation." The tone of your e-mail is worrying.

Cat x

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject: **Homeward Bound

**Date:** June 3 2011 10:04

**To: **Catherine Chandler

Catherine,

The situation could be better. Have you taken off yet? If so you should not be e-mailing. You're putting yourself at risk, in direct contravention of the rule regarding your personal safety. I meant what I said about punishments.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><em>Crap! Okay! Damn! What's eating him? <em>Perhaps "the situation"? Maybe Sam's gone AWOL, maybe he's dropped a few million on the stock market—whatever the reason.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Overreaction

**Date:** June 3 2011 13:06 EST

**To:** Vincent Keller

Dear Mr. Grumpy,

The aircraft doors are still open. We are delayed but only by ten minutes. My welfare and that of the passengers around me is vouch-safed. You may stow your twitchy palm for now.

Miss Chandler

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Apologies—Twitchy Palm Stowed

**Date:** June 3 2011 10:08

**To: **Catherine Chandler

I miss you and your smart mouth, Miss Chandler.

I want you safely home.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject: **Apology Accepted

**Date:** June 3 2011 13:10 EST

**To: **Vincent Keller

They're shutting the doors. You won't hear another peep from me, especially given your deafness.

Laters!

Cat x

* * *

><p>I sitch off the BlackBerry, unable to shake my anxiety. Something is up with Vincent. Perhaps the situation is out of hand.<p>

I sit back, glancing up at the overhead bin where my bags are stowed. I managed this morning, with my mother's help, to buy Vincent a small gift to say thank you for first class and for the gliding. I smile at the memory of the soaring—that was something else. I don't know yet if I'll give my silly gift to him. He might think it's childish—and if he's in a strange mood, maybe not. I'm both eager to return and apprehensive of what awaits me at my journey's end.

* * *

><p>As I mentally flick through all the scenarios that could be the situation, I become aware that once again the only empty seat is beside me. I shake my head as the thought crosses my mind that Vincent might have purchased the adjacent seat so that I couldn't talk to anyone. I dismiss the idea as ridiculous. No one could be that controlling, that jealous, surely. I close my eyes as the plane taxis toward the runway.<p>

I emerge into the Sea-Tac arrivals terminal eight hours later to find Sam waiting and holding up a dign that reads **MISS C. CHANDLER**. _Honestly!_ But it's good to see him.

"Hello, Sam."

"Miss Chandler." Sam nods, greeting me formally, but I see a hint of a smile in his bright blue eyes. He looks his usual self—smart charcoal suit, white shirt, and charcoal tie.

"I do know what you look like, Sam. You didn't need a sign, and I do wish you'd call me Cat." I deadpan.

"Cat. Can I take your bags, please?"

"No, I can manage. Thank you."

His lips tighten perceptibly. "B-but, if you'd be more comfortable taking them." I stammer.

"Thank you." he grabs my backpack and my newly acquired wheelie case for the clothes my mother has bought me. "This way, ma'am."

I sigh. He's so polite. I remember, though I would like to erase it from my memory, that this man has bought me underwear. In fact, and the thought unsettles me, he's the only man who's ever bought me underwear. Even Thomas' never had to endure that hardship.

We walk in silence to the black Audi SUV outside in the airport parking lot, and he holds the door open for me. I clamber in, wondering if wearing such a short skirt for the return to Seattle was a good idea. It was cool and welcome in Georgia. Here I feel exposed. Once Sam has stowed my bags in the trunk, we set off for Escala.

* * *

><p>The journey is slow, caught up in rush-hour traffic. Sam keeps his eyes on the road ahead. Taciturn doesn't begin to describe him. <em>Ugh! <em>I can't bear the silence any longer.

"How's Vincent, Sam?"

"Mr. Keller is preoccupied, Miss Chandler."

_Oh, this must be the situation._ I'm mining a seam of gold.

"Preoccupied?" I ask.

"Yes, ma'am."

I frown at Sam, and he glances at me in the rearview miror, our eyes meeting. He's saying nothing more. _Jeez, he can be as tight lipped as the control freak himself! _

"Is he okay?" I ask.

"I believe so, ma'am."

"Are you more comfortable calling me Miss Chandler?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Oh, okay."

Well, that curtails our conversation. But I just can't stand the silence.

"Could you put some music on, please?" I ask in a sigh.

"Certainly, ma'am. What would you like to hear?"

"Something soothing."

I see a smile play on Sam's lips as our eyes meet briefly again in the mirror. "Yes, Ma'am." he says.

"Thank you." I sit back as we drive slowly but steadily along Interstates 5 into Seattle.

Twenty-five minutes later, he drops me outside the impressive facade that is the entrance to Escala.

"In you go, ma'am." he says, holding the door open for me. "I'll bring up your luggage." His expression is soft, warm, avuncular even.

"Thank you for the ride, Sam." I smile.

"It's a pleasure, Miss Chandler." he smiles back, and I head inside to see my Fifty Shades.

* * *

><p>I ride up to the thirteenth floor, a thousand butterflies stretch their wings and flutter erratically in my stomach. <em>Why am I so nervous? <em>And I know it's because I've no idea what kind of mood Vincent's going to be in when I arrive. My inner goddess is hopeful for one type of mood; my subconscious, like me, is fraught with nerves.

The elevator doors open, and I'm in the foyer. It's so strange not to be met by Sam. Of course he's parking the car and bringing in my bags.

In the great room, Vincent's on his BlackBerry, talking quietly as he stares through the glass doors at the early evening Seattle skyline. He's wearing a gray suit with the jacket undone, and he's running his hand through his hair. He's agitated, tense even. _Oh no...what's wrong?_ Agitated or not, he's still a fine sight to behold. _How can he look so... arresting?_

"No trace... Okay... Yes." he turns and sees me, and his whole demeanor changes from tension to relief to something else: a look that calls directly to my inner goddess, a look of sensual carnality, his eyes scorching. My mouth goes dry and desire blooms in my body..._whoa._

"Keep me informed." he snaps, and shuts off his phone as he strides purposefully toward me. I stand paralyzed as he closes the distance between us, devouring me with his eyes. _Holy shit... _Something's amiss—the strain in his jaw, the anxiety around his eyes. He shrugs out of his jacket, undoes his dark tie, and slings them both onto the couch en route to me. Then his arms are wrapped around me, and he's pulling me to him, hard, fast, gripping my ponytail to tilt my head up, kissing me like his life depends on it. _What the hell?! _He drags the hair tie painfully out of my hair, but I don't care. There's desperate, primal quality to his kiss. He needs me, for whatever reason, at this point in time, and i've never felt so desired and converted. It's dark and sensual and alarming all at the same time. I kiss him back with equal fervor, my fingers twisting and fisting his hair. Our tongues entwine, our passion and ardor erupting between us. He tastes divine, hot, sexy, and his scent—all body wash and Vincent—is arousing. He drags his mouth away from mine, and he's staring down at me, gripped by some unnamed emotion.

"What's wrong?" I breathe.

"I'm just so glad that you're back. Shower with me, now."

I can't decide if it's a request or a command. "Yes." I whisper, and he grabs my hand and leads me out of the big room and into his bedroom to his bathroom. Once inside, he releases me and turns the water on in the far-too-spacious shower. Spinning around slowly, he gazes at me, eyes hooded.

"I like your skirt. It's very... short." he says, his voice low. "You have a pair of some mighty fine legs, Miss Chandler." He steps out of his shoes and reaches down to take off each sock, never taking his eyes off me. I'm rendered speechless by the look of hunger in his eyes. _Wow... to_ _be this wanted by this Greek God._ I mirror his actions and step out of my black flats. Suddenly, he grabs my hips, pushing me up against the wall. Kissing me, my face, my throat, my lips... running his hands through my hair. I feel the cool, smooth tiled wall at my back as he pushes himself against me so that I'm flattened between his heat and the chill of the ceramic. Tentatively, I place my arms on his upper arms, and he groans as I squeeze tightly.

"I want you now. Here... fast, hard." he breathes, and his hands are on my thighs, pushing my skirt up. "Please tell me you want me, too."

"I want you." I mumble in whisper.

"Say it."

"I want you." I murmur.

He slips his fingers under the fabric of my panties, inserting two fingers inside me. I gasp as I close my eyes, moaning. _God, I've missed this! _

"Louder." he demands.

"I want you, Vincent!... Now!" I gasp loudly in a groan. He doesn't waist any time, and hooks his thumbs over my panties, and abruptly he drops to his knees as he tugs them off. My skirt is now rucked up so that I'm naked from the waist down and panting, wanting. He grabs my hips, pushing me against the wall again, and kisses me at the apex of my thighs. Grabbing my upper thighs, he pushes my legs apart. I groan loudly, feeling his tongue circling my clitoris. _Oh my God! _Tipping my head back involuntarily, I moan as my fingers find their way into his hair.

His tongue is relentless, strong and insistent, washing over me... swirling around, and around, again and again... nonstop. It's exquisite, the intensity of feeling—it's almost painful. My body starts to quicken, and he releases me. _What? No! _My breathing is ragged as I pant, gazing at him with delicious anticipation. He grabs my face with both hands, holding me firmly, and he kisses me hard, thrusting his tongue into my mouth so I can taste my arousal. Unzipping his fly, he frees himself, grabs the backs of my thighs, and lifts me.

"Wrap your legs around me, Catherine." he commands, his voice urgent, strained.

I do as I'm told and wrap my arms around his neck as well, and he moves quickly and sharply, filling me. _Ah! _He gasps, and I groan. Holding my behind, his fingers digging into my soft flesh, he begins to move, slowly at first—a steady even tempo... but as his control unravels, he speeds up... faster and faster. _Ahhh! _I tip my head back and concentrate on the invading, punishing, heavenly sensation... pushing me, pushing me... onward, higher up... and when I can take no more, I explode around him, spiraling into an intense, all-consuming orgasm. He lets go with a deep growl, and he buries his head in my neck as he buries himself inside me, groaning loudly and incoherently as he finds his release.

His breathing is erratic, but he kisses me tenderly, not moving, still inside me. I blink, unseeing, into his eyes. As he comes into focus, he gently pulls out of me, holding me steady while I place my feet on the floor. The bathroom is now cloudy with steam... and hot. I feel overdressed.

"You seem pleased to see me." I murmur with a shy smile. His lips quirk up, "Yes, Miss Chandler. I think my pleasure is pretty self-evident. Come on. Let me get you in the shower."

He undoes the next three buttons of his shirt, removes the cuff links, tugs it over his head and discards it on the floor. Taking off his suit pants and boxer briefs, he kicks them to one side. He begins to undo the buttons on my blouse while I watch him, yearning to reach our and stroke his chest, but I contain myself.

"How was your journey?" he asks mildly. He seems so much calmer now, his apprehension gone, dissolved by sexual congress.

"Fine, thank you." I murmur, still breathless. "Thanks again for first class. It really is a much nicer way to travel." I smile shyly at him. "I have some news." I add nervously.

"Oh?" He looks down at me as he undoes the last button of my blouse and tosses it on top of his discarded clothes.

"I have a job."

He stills, then smiles at me, his eyes warm and soft. "Congratulations, Miss Chandler. Now will you tell me where?" he teases.

"You don't know?" I ask.

He shakes his head, frowning. "Why would I know?"

"Well, with you stalking capibilities, I thought you might have..." I trail off as his face falls.

"Catherine, I wouldn't dream of interfering in your career, unless you ask me to, of course." he looks wounded.

"So you have no idea which company?"

"No. I know there are four publishing companies in Seattle—so I'm assuming it's one of them."

"SIP." I sigh.

"Oh, the small one. Good. Congrats, again." He leans forward and kisses my forehead. "Clever girl. When do you start?"

"Monday."

"That soon, eh? I'd better take advantage of you while I still can. Turn around."

I'm thrown by his casual command but do as I'm bid, and he undoes my bra and unzips my skirt. He pushes my skirt down, cupping my behind as he does and kissing my shoulder. He leans against me and his nose nuzzles my hair, inhaling deeply. He squeezes my buttocks.

"You intoxicate me, Miss Chandler, and you calm me. Such a heady combination." He kisses my hair. Grabbing my hand, he tugs me into the shower.

"Ow!" I squeal. The water is practically scalding. Vincent grins down at me as the water cascades over him.

"It's only a little hot water." he murmurs.

And he's actually right. It feels heavenly, washing off the sticky Georgia morning and the stickiness from our lovemaking.

"Turn around." he orders, and I comply, turning to face the wall. "I want to wash you." he murmurs, and reaches for the body wash. He squirts some into his hand.

"I have something else to tell you." I mutter as his hands start on my shoulders.

"Oh? What is it?" he asks mildly.

I take a deep breath, "Well, Patrick's photography show is opening Thursday in Portland."

He stills, his hands hovering over my breasts.

"Yeah, what about it?" he asks sternly.

"I said I would go. Do you want to come with me?" I ask, still holding my breath. And after what seems like a monumental amount of time, he slowly starts washing me again.

"What time?" he asks.

"The opening is at seven thirty p.m."

He kisses my ear. "Okay."

Inside my subconscious relaxes and then collapses, slumped into an old battered armchair.

"Were you nervous about asking me?" he whispers.

"Yeah. How can you tell?"

"Catherine, your whole body's just relaxed." he says dryly.

"Well, you just seem to be, um... on the jealous side."

"That's because I am." he says darkly. "And you'd do well to remember that. But thank you for asking. We'll take Charlie Tango."

_Oh, the helicopter of course, silly me. More flying... cool! _I grin. "Can I wash you?" I ask.

"I don't think so." he murmurs, and he kisses me gently on my neck to take the sting out of his refusal. I pout at the wall as he caresses my back with soap.

"Will you ever let me touch you?" I ask boldly.

He stills again, his hand on my behind. "Put your hands on the wall, Catherine. I'm going to take you again." he murmurs in my ear as he grabs my hips, and I know that the discussion is over.

* * *

><p>Later, we are seated at the breakfast bar, dressed in bathrobes, having consumed Mrs. Jones's rather excellent pasta alle vongole.<p>

"More wine?" Vincent asks, brown eyes glowing.

"A small glass, please." The Sancerre is crisp and delicious. Vincent pours one for me and one for himself.

"How's the, uhm... situation that brought you back to Seattle?" I ask tentatively.

He frowns. "Out of hand." he murmurs bitterly. "But nothing for you to worry about, Catherine. I have plans for you this evening."

"Oh?"

"Yep. I want you ready and waiting in my playroom in fifteen minutes." He stands and gazes down at me.

"You can get ready in your room. Incidentally, the walk-in closet is now full of clothes for you. I don't want any arguments about them." He narrows his eyes, daring me to say something. When I don't he stalks off to his study.

_Me?! Argue?! With you, Fifty Shades?! _It's more than my backside's worth. I sit on the bar-stool, momentarily stupefied, trying to assimilate this morsel of info. _He's bought me clothes._ I roll my eyes in an exaggerated fashion, knowing full well he can't see me. _Car, phone, computer... clothes. _It'll be a damn condo next, and then I really will be his mistress.

_Yup, you're definitely a ho! _My subconscious has her snarky face on. I ignore her and make my way upstairs towards _my_ room. _So it's still mine...why?_ I thought he'd agreed to let me sleep with him. I suppose he's not used to sharing his personal space, but then again, neither am I.

I open the closet door and close it straight back quickly. _Holy shit! He's spent a fortune! _It resembles Tess'—so many clothes hanging neatly on the rail. Deep down, I know that they'll all fit. But I have no time to think about that—I have to get kneeling in the Red Room of Pain... or Pleasure, hopefully—this evening.

* * *

><p>Kneeling by the door of the playroom, I'm naked except for my panties. My heart is in my mouth. <em>Jeez, you'd think after the double sex encounter in the bathroom that he would have had enough. <em>Vincent is insatiable, or maybe all men are like him. I have no idea, I haven't have any one to compare him to. Closing my eyes, I try to calm myself down, to connect with my inner submissive. She's there somewhere, hinding behind my inner goddess.

The door opens and Vincent breezes in, ignoring me completely. I glance down quickly, staring at my hands, positioned with care on my spread thighs. Placing something on the large chest beside the door, he strolls casually toward the bed. I indulge myself in a quick glimpse at him, and my heart almost lurches to a stop. He's naked except for those soft, ripped jeans, top button casually undone. _Sweet Jesus! He looks so fucking hot! _

My subconscious is frantically fanning herself, and my inner goddess is swaying and writhing to some primal carnal rhythm. _She's so ready._ I lick my lips instinctively. My blood pounds through my veins, thick and heavy with salacious hunger. _What is he going to do to me?!_

Turning, he nonchalantly walks back to the chest of drawers, opening one, and begins removing items and placing them on top. My curiosity burns, blazes even, but I resist the overwhelming temptation to sneak a quick peek. When he finishes what he's doing, he comes to stand in front of me. I can see his naked feet, and I feel the urge to want to kiss them... _Dear God!_

"You look lovely." he breathes.

I keep my head down, conscious that he's staring at me while I'm practically naked. I feel the flush as it slowly spreads over my face. He bends down and cups my chin, forcing my face up to meet his gaze.

"You are one beautiful woman, Catherine. And you're all mine." he murmurs. "Stand up." His command is soft, full of sensual promise.

Shakily, I get to my feet.

"Look at me." he whispers, and I stare up into his smoldering gaze. It's his Dom gaze—cold, hard, sexy as hell, seven shades of sin in one enticing look. My mouth dries, and I know I will do anything he asks. An almost cruel smile plays across his lips.

"We don't have a signed contract, Catherine. But we've discussed limits, and I want to reilterate we have safe-words, okay?"

_Oh fuck! What has he got planned that I need safe-words?_

"What are they?" he asks authoritatively.

I frown slightly at his question, and his face hardens perceptibly. "What are the safe-words, Catherine?" he says slowly and deliberately.

"Yellow." I mumble.

"And?" he prompts, his mouth setting in a hard line.

"Red." I breathe.

"Remember those, Catherine." he breathes and I can't help myself... I raise a brow at him and am about to remind him of my GPA, but the sudden frosty glint in his icy brown eyes stop me, dead in my tracks.

"Don't start with your smart mouth in here, Miss Chandler, else I'll fuck it with you on your knees. Understand?"

I swallow instinctively. _Okay... _I blink rapidly, chastened. Actually, it's his tone of voice, rather than the threat that intimidates me.

"Well?" he prompts.

"Yes, Sir." I mumble hastily.

"Good girl." he pauses as he stares at me. "My intention isn't that you should use the safe-word because you're in pain. What I intend to do to you will be intense. _Very_ intense, and you'll have to guide me. Understand?"

_Not really. Intense? Wow..._

"This is about touch, Catherine. You won't be able to see me or hear me. But you'll be able to feel me."

I frown. _Not hear him? __How is this going to work? _He turns and I hadn't noticed that above the chest is a sleek, flat, matte black box. As he waves his hand in front, the box splits in half: two doors slide open revealing a CD player and a host of buttons. Vincent presses several of these buttons in sequence. Nothing happens, but he seems satisfied. I'm mystified.

When he turns to face me again, he wears his small I-have-a-secret smile.

"I'm going to tie you to the bed, Catherine. But I'm going to blindfold you first and..." he reveals his iPod in his hand, "you will not be able to hear me. All you will hear is the music I'm going to play for you."

_Okay. _A musical interlude. Not what I was expecting. _Does he ever do what I expect? Jeez, I hope it's not rap!_

"Come on." Taking my hand, he leads me over to the antique four-poster bed. There are shackles attached at each corner, fine metal chains with black leather cuffs, glinting against the red satin. _Oh boy... _I think my heart is going to jump out of my chest, and I'm melting from the inside out, desire coursing through me. _Could I be any more excited?_

"Stand here." he breathes.

I'm facing the bed. He leans down and whispers in my ear, "Wait here. Keep your eyes on the bed. Picture yourself lying here bound and totally at my mercy."

_Fuck me! _I bite my lip as I briefly close my eyes to his words. He moves away for a moment, and I can hear him near the door fetching something. All my senses are hyper-alert, my hearing more acute. He's picked up something from the rack of whips and paddles by the door. _Holy cow! What is he going to do? _I feel him behind me. He takes my hair, pulls it into ponytail behind me and begins braiding it.

"While I like your pigtails, Catherine, I'm impatient to have you right now. So one will have to do." His voice is low, soft.

His deft fingers skim my back occasionally as they work down my hair, and each casual touch is like a sweet, electric shock against my skin. He fastens the end with a hair tie, then gently tugs the braid so that I'm forced to step back flush against him. He pulls again to the side so that I angle my head, giving him easier access to my neck. Leaning down, he nuzzles my neck, tracing his teeth and tongue from the base of my ear to my shoulder. He hums softly as he does, and the sound resonates through me. Right down... ooh, right down _there_, inside me. Unbidden, I groan quietly.

"Hush now." he whispers against my skin. He holds up his hands in front of me, his arms touching mine. In his right hand is a flogger. I remember the name from my first intro to this room.

"Touch it." he whispers, and he sounds like the devil himself. My body flames in response. I reach out and brush the long strands. Its has many long fronds, all soft suede with small beads at the end.

"I'm going to use this. It won't hurt, but it will bring your blood to the surface of your skin and make you very sensitive."

_Oh, he says it won't hurt._

"What are the safe-words, Catherine?"

"Yellow and red, Sir." I whisper.

"Good girl. Remember, most of your fear is in your mind." He drops the flogger on the bed, and his hands move to my waist.

"You won't be needing these." he murmurs, hooking his fingers into my panties and sweeps them down my legs. I step unsteadily out of them, supporting myself on the ornate post of the bed.

"Stand still." he orders, and he kisses my behind, then gently nips me twice, making me tense. "Now lie down. Face up." he adds as he smacks me hard on the behind, making me jump.

Hastily, I crawl onto the bed's hard, unyielding mattress and lie down, looking up at him. The satin of the sheet beneath me is soft and cool against my skin. His face is impassive, except for his eyes, which glow with a barely leashed excitement.

"Hands above your head." he orders, and I do as I'm told.

My body craves him. I want him already. He turns, and out of the corner of my eyes, I watch him saunter back over to the chest of drawers, returning with the iPod and what looks like an eye mask, similar to the one I used on my flight to Atlanta. The thought makes me want to smile, but I can't quite make my lips cooperate. I'm too consumed with anticipation. I just know my face is completely immobile, my eyes huge, as I gaze at him.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he shows me the iPod. It has a strange antenna device as well as headphones. _How odd. _I frown as I try to figure this out.

"This transmits what's playing on the iPod to the system in the room." Vincent answers my unspoken query as he taps the small antenna. "I can hear what you're hearing, and I have a remote control unit for it." He smirks his private-joke smile and holds up a small, flat device that looks like a very hip calculator. He leans across me, inserting the earbuds gently into my ears, and puts the iPod down somewhere on the bed above my head.

"Lift your head." he commands, and I do so immediately. Slowly, he slides the mask on, pulling the elastic over the back of my head, and I'm blind. The elastic on the mask holds the earbuds in place. I can still hear him, though the sound is muffled as he rises from the bed. I'm deafened by my own shallow and erratic breathing, reflecting my excitement. Vincent takes my left arm, stretches it gently to the left-hand corner, and attaches the leather cuff around my wrist. His long fingers stroke the length of my arm once he's finished. _Oh! _His touch elicits a delicious, tickly shiver. I hear him move slowly around to the other side, where he repeats the procedure of my left arm, attaching my right wrist to the leather cuff. Again, his long fingers linger along my arm. _Oh my! _I'm fit to burst already. _Why is this so erotic?_

He moves to the bottom of the bed and grabs both of my ankles. "Lift your head again." he orders. I comply and he drags me down the bed so that my arms are fully stretched out almost straining at the cuffs. _Holy cow, I can't move my arms! _A frisson of trepidation mixed with tantalizing exhilaration sweeps through my body, making me wetter. I groan.

Parting my legs, he cuffs first my right ankle and then my left so I'm staked out, spread-eagled, and totally vulnerable to him. It's so unnerving that I can't see him. I listen hard... _what's he doing? _

And I hear nothing, just my breathing and the pounding thud of my beating heart as blood rushes furiously against my eardrums. Abruptly, the soft silent hiss and pop of the iPod springs into life. From inside my head, a slow, sensual mix of two separate beats pulse through me. I recognize the song instantly from Tess' playlist on her laptop. _Wow... Vincent Keller, a fan of Nine Inch Nails?! Something to add to my 'shocked by Vincent' list. Oh! How thrilling!_

Suddenly, something almost unbearably soft brushes against my neck, running languidly down my throat, slowly across my chest, over my nipples—_Oh, it's so soft!-_skimming underneath. It's so... _unexpected! __It's fur! A fur glove?_

Vincent trails his hand, unhurried and deliberate, down to my belly, circling my navel, then carefully from my hip to hip, and I'm trying to anticipate where he's going next... but the music is distracting me, talking about _fucking from the inside... _it's all in my head... transporting me... the fur across my sex, between my legs, along my thighs, down one leg... up the other... it almost tickles, but not quite... the lyrics of the song consume me with its erotic, slow beat.

_No, HELP ME!_

The fur is now moving down my arms and around my waist... back up across my breasts. My nipples harden beneath the soft touch... and I'm panting... wondering where his hand will go next. Suddenly, the fur is gone, and I can feel the fronds of the flogger flowing over my skin, following the same path as the fur, and it's so hard to concentrate with the music in my head.

Abruptly, the flogger disappears. Then suddenly, sharply, it bites down on my belly.

"Aagghh!" I cry out. It takes me by surprise, but it doesn't hurt, just tingles all over. He hits me again. Harder.

"Aaah!" I moan.

I want to move, to writhe... to escape, or to welcome, each blow... I don't know—it's overwheming... I can't pull my arms... my legs are stuck... I'm held very firmly in place... and again he strikes across my breasts. I cry out again. And it's a sweet agony—bearable, just... pleasant—no, not immediately, but as my skin sings with each blow in perfect counterpoint to the music in my head, I'm dragged into a dark, dark part of my psyche that surrenders to this most erotic sensation. _Yes! I get this! _He hits me across my hip, then moves in swift blows over my sex, on my thighs, and down my inner thighs... and back up my body... across my hips. He keeps going as the music reaches it's climax, and then suddenly the music stops. And so does he.

The song starts over again. Building and building, and he rains down blows on me... and I moan and writhe. Then suddenly he stops and I can sense he has left the bed. _Where did he go? Why did he stop? _The bed moves and shifts as I feel him clamber over me. His nose and lips that take the place of the fur... running down my neck and throat, kissing, sucking... trailing down to my breasts... _Ah! _Taunting each of my nipples in turn... his tongue swirling around one while his fingers relentlessly tease the other... I groan, very loudly, though I can't hear it over the music. I'm lost. Lost in him... lost in the sexy beat of the music... lost to all the sensations I can't escape... I'm completely at the mercy of his expert touch.

He moves down to my belly, his tongue circling my navel, following the path of the flogger and the fur... I moan. He's kissing and sucking and nibbling... moving south... and then his tongue is _there._ At the junction of my thighs. I throw my head back and cry out as I almost detonate into orgasm... I'm on the brink, and he stops.

_No! _The bed shifts, and he kneels between my legs. He leans toward the bedpost, and the cuff on my ankle is suddenly gone. I pull my leg to the middle of the bed... resting it against him. He leans over to the opposite post and frees my other leg. His hands travel quickly down both my legs, squeezingand kneading, bringing life back into them. Then, grasping my hips, he lifts me so that my back is no longer on the bed. I'm arched, resting on my shoulders. _What? _He's kneeling up between my legs... and in one swift, slamming move, he's inside me... _oh, fuck!..._ and I cry out again. The quiver of my impending orgasm begins, and he stills. The quiver dies... _oh no... _he's going to torture me further.

"Vincent!" I wail,

He grips me harder... _in warning?_ I don't know, his fingers digging into the flesh of my behind as I lay panting... so I purposefully still. Very slowly, he starts to move again... out and then in... agonizingly slowly. _Holy fuck—please! _I'm screaming inside... And as the instrumental part of the song playing in my head begins to increase, so does his pace, infinitesimally, he's so controlled... so in time with the music. And I can no longer bear it.

"Please." I beg, and in one swift move, he lowers me back onto the bed, and he's lying on top of me, his hands on the bed beside my breasts as he supports his weight, and he thrusts into me, pounding into me these sweet, hard yet slow thrusts, in sync with the songs rhythm. And as the song reaches it's climax again, I fall... free-fall, into the most intense, agonizing orgasm I have ever had, and Vincent follows me... thrusting hard into me three more times... finally stilling, then collapsing on top of me.

* * *

><p>As my consciousness returns from wherever it's been, Vincent pulls out of me. The music has stopped, and I can feel him stretch across my body as he undoes the cuff on my right wrist. I groan as my hand if freed. He quickly frees my other hand, gently pulls the mask from my eyes, and removes the earbuds. I blink in the dim soft light and stare up into his intense brown gaze.<p>

"Hi." he murmurs.

"Hi, yourself." I breathe shyly back at him. His lips quirk up into a smile, and he leans down and kisses me softly.

"Well done, you." he whispers. "Turn over."

_Holy hell! What's he going to do now? _His eyes soften.

"I'm just going to rub your shoulders." he smiles.

"Oh... okay." I roll stiffly onto my front. I'm so tired. Vincent sits astride me and starts to massage my shoulders. I groan loudly—he has such strong, knowing fingers. Leaning down, he kisses my head.

"Closer by Nine Inch Nails? Really?" I mumble almost inarticulately.

"Well, I figured it suited us... especially since I wanted to give you the intense experience of a lifetime." he says. And I can feel his smirk behind me.

"And an experience of a lifetime, it was." I smile.

"Plus, I always wanted to fuck to it." he adds, rubbing his expert fingers deep into my shoulder blades. _Oh, this feels so good._

"Another first, Mr. Keller?"

"Indeed, it is, Miss Chandler."

He pushes his thumbs into my skin as he trails his hands down my back. I groan in satisfaction. "Well, it's the first time I've fucked to it, too." I murmur sleepily.

"Hmm... you and I. We're giving each other many firsts." His voice is matter-of-factly.

"What did I say to you in my sleep, Vinc—er, Sir?"

His hands pause their ministrations for a moment. "You said a lot of things, Catherine. You talked about cages and strawberries... that you wanted more... and that you missed me."

_Oh, thank heavens for that!_

"Is that all?" The relief in my voice is evident. Vincent stops his heavenly massage and shifts so that he's lying beside me, his head proped up on his elbow. He's frowning. "What did you think you'd said?"

_Oh shit!_

"That I thought you were ugly, conceited, and that you were hopeless in bed." I try to stifle my smile, but fail miserably. The crease on his brow deepens. "Well, naturally I am all those things, and now you've got me really intrigued. What are you hiding from me, Miss Chandler?"

I blink at him innocently. "I'm not hiding anything."

"Catherine, you're a hopeless liar."

"I thought you were going to make me giggle after sex; this isn't doing it for me."

His lips quirk up, "I can't tell jokes."

"Mr. Keller! Something you _can't_ do?" I grin at him, and he grins back.

"No, hopeless joke teller." He looks so proud of himself that I start to giggle. "I'm a hopeless joke teller, too." I giggle.

"That is such a lovely sound, Catherine." he murmurs, and he leans forward and kisses me. "And you are hiding something, Catherine. I may have to torture it out of you."

* * *

><p><em><strong>**Okay, so one more chapter after this then I am going to take a break for my reviews to catch up lol. And also so the story can sink in. I hope after the next chapter yal don't hate me. JUST BE PATIENT WITH ME! Hehe! Love you guys! Now I'm going to bed. PEACE! DONT FORGET TO REVIEW!**<strong>_


	26. Chapter 26

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*WARNING:<strong>** The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, ****graphic sexual content, and DOM/SUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*Extra:<strong>** I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: Okay guys, this is the last chapter of book 1 of FSOG, but not the end of this fanfic. Please don't hate me after reading this. It will be hard to read, but I promise this story will get better. Thanks so much for your undying support!)**

_Italics represent Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 26-<strong>_

I wake with a jolt. I think I've just fallen down some stairs in a dream, and I bolt upright, momentarily disoriented. It's dark, and I'm in Vincent's bed alone. Something has woken me, some nagging thought. I glance over at the alarm clock on his bedside. It's five in the morning, but I feel rested. _Why is that? _Must be the time difference. It would be eight in the morning in Georgia right now. _Holy crap... I need to take my pill. _I clamber out of bed, grateful for whatever it is that has woken me. Suddenly, I hear a faint notes from the piano. Vincent is playing. This I must see. I love watching him play.

Naked, I grab my bathrobe from the chair and wander quietly down the corridor, slipping on my robe and listening to the magical sound of the melodic lament that's coming from the great room.

Shrouded in darkness, Vincent sits in a bubble of light as he plays, and he's still wearing his just-fucked hair-do. He looks naked, though I know he's wearing his PJ bottoms. He's concentrating, playing beautifully, lost in the melancholy of the music. I hesitate, watching from the shadows, not wanting to interrupt him. I just want to hold him. He looks lost, sad even, and achingly lonely... or maybe it's just the music that's so full of poignant sorrow. He finishes the piece, pauses for a split second, then starts to play it again.

I move cautiously toward him, drawn as the moth to the flame... the idea makes me smile. He glances up at me and frowns before his gaze returns to his hands. _Oh crap! Is he pissed off that I'm disturbing him?_

"You should be asleep." he scolds mildly.

I can tell he's preoccupied with something. "So should you." I retort not quite as mildly.

He glances up again, his lips twitching with a trace of a smile. "Are you scolding me, Miss Chandler?"

"Yes, Mr. Keller. I am."

"Well, I can't sleep." He frowns once more as a trace of irritation or anger flashes across his face. _With me? Surely not. _I ignore his facial expression and very bravely sit down beside him on the piano stool, placing my head on his bare shoulder to watch his deft, agile fingers caress the keys. He pauses fractionally, and then continues to the end of the piece.

"What was that?" I ask softly.

"Chopin. Prelude opus twenty-eight, number four. In E minor, if you're interested." he murmurs.

"I'm always interested in what you do, Mr. Keller."

He turns and softly presses his lips against my hair. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't. Play the other one."

"Other one?" he asks.

"The Bach piece that you played the first night I stayed." I whisper.

"Oh, the Marcello." he mutters. He starts playing it slowly and deliberately. I feel the movement of his hands in his shoulders as I lean against him and close my eyes. The sad, soulful notes swirl slowly and mournfully around us, echoing off the walls. It's a hauntingly beautiful piece, sadder even than the Chopin, and I lose myslef to the beauty of the lament. To a certain extent, it reflects how I feel. The deep poignant longing I have to know this extraordinary man better, to try to understand _his_ sadness. And all too soon, the piece is at an end.

"Why do you only play such sad music?" I ask, sitting upright, gazing at him as he shrugs in answer to my question, his expression wary.

"So you were six when you started to play?" I prompt.

He nods, his wary look intensifying. After a moment he volunteers. "I threw myself into learning the piano to please my new mother." he whispers.

"To fit into the perfect family?"

"Yes. So to speak." he says evasively. "Why are you awake? Don't you need to recover from yesterday's exertions?"

"It's eight in the morning for me. And I need to take my pill."

He raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Well remembered." he murmurs, and I can tell he's impressed. "Only you would start a course of time-specific birth control pills in a different time zone. Perhaps you should wait half an hour and then another half hour tomorrow morning. So eventually you can take them at a reasonable time." he adds.

"Good plan." I breathe. "So what shall we do for a half an hour?" I blink innocently at him.

"I can think of a few things." He grins salaciously. I gaze back impassively as my insides clench and melt under his knowing look.

"On the other hand, we could talk." I suggest quietly.

His brow creases. "I prefer what I have in mind." He scoops me onto his lap.

"You'd always rather have sex than talk." I laugh, steadying myself by holding on to his upper arms.

"True. Especially with you." He nuzzles my hair and starts a steady trail of kisses from below my ear to my throat. "Maybe on my piano." he whispers.

_Oh my! _My whole body tightens at the thought. _Piano. Wow!_ "I want to get something straight." I whisper as my pulse starts to accelerate, and my inner goddess closes her eyes, reveling in the feel of his lips on me.

He pauses momentarily before continuing his sensual assault. "Always so eager for information, Miss Chandler. What needs straightening out?" he breathes against my skin at the base of my neck, continuing his soft gentle kisses.

"Us." I whisper as I close my eyes.

"Hmm... what about us?" He pauses his trail of kisses along my shoulder.

"The contract." I murmur.

He lifts his head to gaze down at me, a hint of amusement in his eyes, and he sighs. He strokes his fingertips down my cheek.

"Well, I think the contract is moot, don't you?" His voice is low and husky, his eyes soft.

"Moot?" I ask.

"Moot." He smiles. I gape at him quizzically. "But you were so keen."

"Well, that was before. Anyways, the Rules aren't moot, they still stand." His expression hardens slightly.

_Before? _"Before what?" I whisper.

"Before..." he pauses, and the wary expression is back. "More." he shrugs.

"Oh." _More!_

"Besides, we've been in the playroom twice now, and you haven't run screaming for the hills." he murmurs.

"Do you expect me to?" I ask.

"Nothing you do is expected, Catherine." he says dryly.

"So, let me be clear. You just want me to follow the Rules element of the contract all the time but not the rest of the contract?" I murmur.

He sighs. "Except in the playroom. I want you to follow the spirit of the contract in the playroom, and yes, I want you to follow the Rules—all the time. Then I know you'll be safe, and I'll be able to have you anytime I wish."

"And if I break one of the Rules?"

"Then I'll punish you."

"But won't you need my permission?"

"Yes, I will."

"And if I say no?"

He gazes at me for a moment, with a confused expression. "If you say no, you'll say no. I'll have to find a way to persuade you."

I pull away from him and stand. I need some distance. He frowns as I stare down at him. He looks puzzled and wary again.

"So the punishment aspect remains?" I mutter in question.

"Yeah, but only if you break the Rules."

"I'll need to reread them." I say, trying to recall the detail.

"I'll go get them for you." His tone is suddenly business-like.

_Wow. _This has gotten serious so quickly. He rises from the piano and walks lithely to his study. My scalp prickles. _Jeez, I need some tea... _The future of our so-called relationship is being discussed at 5:45 in the morning when he's preoccupied with something else—_is this wise?_

* * *

><p>I head into the kitchen, which is still shrouded in darkness. <em>Where are the light switches?<em> I find them, flick them on, and pour water into the kettle. _My pill! _I rummage in my purse, which I left on the breakfast bar, and find them quickly. One swallow and I'm done. By the time I finish, Vincent is back, sitting on one of the bar-stools, watching me intently.

"Here you go." He pushes a typed piece of paper toward me, and I notice that he's crossed some things out. I read over them again, trying to memorize what _hasn't _been crossed out, and then I look up at him. "So the obedience thing still stands?" I ask.

"Oh yeah." He grins.

I shake my head, amused, and before I realize it, I roll my eyes at him.

"Did you just roll your eyes at me, Catherine?" he breathes.

_Oh fuck!_

"Possibly. Depends what your reaction is."

"Same as always." he says, shaking his head, his eyes alight with excitement. I swallow instinctively and a frisson of exhilaration runs through me.

"So..." _Holy shit! What am I going to do?_

"Yes?" He licks his lower lip.

"You want to spank me now."

"Yes. And I will." he murmurs.

"Oh, really, Mr. Keller?" I challenge, grinning back at him. _Two can play this game!_

"Are you going to stop me?" he challenges back.

"You're going to have to catch me first." I breathe.

His eyes widen a fraction, and he grins, slowly getting to his feet. "Oh, really, Miss Chandler?"

The breakfast bar is between us and I must say that I am so grateful for it's presence in this very moment.

"And you're biting your lip." he breathes, moving slowly to his left as I move to mine.

"You wouldn't dare." I tease. "After all, you roll your eyes." I try reasoning with him. He continues to move toward his left, as do I.

"Yes, but you've just raised the bar on the excitement stakes with this game." His eyes blaze , and wild anticipation emanates from him.

"I'm quite fast, you know." I try for nonchalance.

"So am I." he breathes. _He's stalking me in his own kitchen!_ "Are you going to come quietly?" he asks.

"Do I ever?" I raise a brow.

"Miss Chandler, what do you mean?" He smirks. "It'll be worse for you if I have to come and get you."

"That's only if you catch me, Vincent. And right now, I have no intention of letting you catch me."

"Catherine, you may fall and hurt yourself. Which will put you in direct contravention of rule number seven, now six."

"I've been in danger since I met you, Mr. Keller. Rules or no rules." I whisper.

"Yes, you have." He pauses, and his brow furrows. Suddenly he lunges for me, making me squeal and run for the dining room table. I manage to escape, putting the table between us. My heart is racing and adrenaline has spiked through my body... _boy, this is thrilling. _I'm a child again, though that's not right. I watch him carefully as he paces deliberately toward me. I inch away.

"You certainly know how to distract a man, Catherine." he murmurs.

"We aim to please, Mr. Keller... Distract you from what?"

"Life. The universe." He waves one of his hands veguely.

"You did seem pretty preoccupied while playing the piano." I mumble and he stops and folds his arms, his expression amused. "We can do this all day, baby, but I _will _get you, and it will just be worse for you when I do." he mutters confidently.

"No, you won't." I must not be overconfident. I repeat this as a mantra. My subconscious has found her Nikes, and she's on the starting blocks.

"Anyone would think you didn't want me to catch you." he whispers.

"I don't. That's the point. I feel about your punishment the way you feel about my touching you." I say. His entire demeanor changes in a nanosecond. Gone is playful Vincent, and he stands staring at me as if I've slapped him across the face. He's ashen. "That's how you feel?" he whispers.

Those four words, and they way he utters them, speak volumes. _Oh no... _They tell me so much more about him and how he feels. They tell me about his fear and loathing. I frown. _No, I don't feel that bad. No way. Do I?_

"No. It doesn't affect me quite as much as that, but it gives you an idea." I murmur, staring anxiously at him.

"Oh." he says.

_Crap! _He looks completely and utterly lost, like I've pulled the rug from under his feet. Taking a deep breath, I move around the table until I'm standing in front of him, gazing into his apprehensive eyes.

"You hate it that much?" he breathes, his eyes filled with horror.

"Well... no." I reassure him. _Jeez, that's how he feels about people touching him? _"No. I feel ambivalent about it. I don't like it, but I don't hate it." I add.

"But last night, in the playroom, you..."

"I do it for you, Vincent, because _you_ need it. I don't." I pause, sighing. "You didn't hurt me last night. That was in a different context, and I can rationalize that internally, and I trust you. But when you want to punish me, I worry that you'll hurt me."

His eyes darken like a turbulent storm. Time moves and expands and slips away before he answers softly. "I want to hurt you. But not beyond anything that you couldn't take."

_Fuck!_

"Why?"

He runs a hand through his unruly hair, and he shrugs, "I just need it." He pauses, gazing at me with anguish, and he closes his eyes and shakes his head. "I can't tell you." he whispers.

"Can't or won't?" I deadpan.

"Won't."

"So you know why?"

"Yes." he whispers.

"But you won't tell me?"

"If I do, you will run screaming from this room, and you'll never want to come back." He stares at me warily. "I can't risk that, Catherine."

"You want me to stay?" I ask, shocked.

"More than you know. I couldn't bear to lose you."

_Oh my... _He gazes down at me, and suddenly, he pulls me into his arms and kisses me passionately. It takes me completely by surprise, and I sense his panic and desperate need in his kiss. He breaks the kiss, leaning his forehead against mine, his eyes are closed, then he opens them, meeting my gaze. "Don't leave me, Catherine. You said you wouldn't leave me, and you begged me not to leave you."

_What? When?_

"I don't remember ever saying that to you." I mumble, still gazing into his beautiful brown orbs.

"That's because you was asleep... You said it in your sleep." he murmurs against my lips.

_So that's what I said to him while unconscious. _

"I don't want to go." And my heart clenches, turning itself inside out. This is a man in need. His fear is naked and obvious, but he's lost... somewhere in his darkness. His eyes are wide and bleak and tortured. I can soothe him, join him briefly in the darkness and bring him back into the light. _But am I truly able to do this? _I'm willing to try...

"Show me." I whisper.

"Show you?"

"Show me how much it can hurt."

He's taken aback, "What?"

I close my eyes briefly, sighing as I reopen my eyes. "Punish me. I want to know how bad it can get."

Vincent steps back further away from me, completely confused. "You would try?"

"Yes. I said I would." But I have an ulterior motive. If I do this for him, maybe he'll let me touch him. He blinks. "Catherine, you're so confusing."

"I'm confused, too. I'm trying to work this out. And you and I will know, once and for all, if I can do this. If I can handle this, then maybe you—" My words fail me, and his eyes widen again. He knows I'm referring to the touch thing. For a moment, he looks torn, but then a steely resolve settles on his features, and he narrows his eyes, gazing at me speculatively as if weighing up alternatives.

* * *

><p>Abruptly, he clasps my arm in a firm grip and turns, leading me out of the great room, up the stairs, and to the playroom. Pleasure and pain, reward and punishment—his words exactly to me from so long ago echo in my mind.<p>

"I'll show you how bad it can be, and you can make your own mind up." He pauses by the door." Are you sure about this?" he asks.

I nod. My mind is made up, and I'm vaguely light-headed, faint even, as all the blood leaves my face. He opens the door and, still grasping my arm, grabs what looks like a belt from the rack beside the door, then leads me over to the red leather bench in the far corner of the room.

"Bend over the bench." he murmurs softly.

_Okay... I can do this. _I fall to my knees, stretching my torso across the bench, my heart screaming for release from it's confinements, squeezed in between the bench and my chest, and it aches. _Oh God, what am I doing? Why am I doing this? WHY?! This is going to hurt... I just know it will!_

In a quiet part of my brain, I'm vaguely surprised that he hasn't asked me to take off my robe yet. It's all that I have on.

"We're here because you asked me to... you said yes, Catherine. And you ran from me. I'm going to strike you six times, and you will count with me." he says in his Dominant form. _Why the hell doesn't he just get it over with?! He always makes a meal of punishing me! _I roll my eyes, knowing full well he can't see me, else it will probably be even worse for my ass.

He lifts the hem of my robe, exposing my bare ass, and my breathing increases as I close my eyes. _This is more intimate than being plain out naked! _He gently caresses my behind, running his hand all over both cheeks and down to the tops of my thighs.

"I'm doing this so that you remember not to run from me, and as exciting as it is, I never want you to run from me." he whispers.

And the irony isn't lost on me._ I was running to avoid this! If he's opened his arms, I would've ran to him, not away from him!_

"And you rolled your eyes at me. You know how I feel about that." he adds, and suddenly, it's gone—that nervous edgy fear in his voice. He's back from wherever he's been. I hear it in his tone, in the way he places his fingers on my back, holding me—and the atmosphere in the room changes.

I close my eyes again, bracing myself for the blow. And it comes, hard, snapping across my behind, and the bite of the belt is _everything_ I feared. I cry out involuntarily and take a huge gulp of air.

"Count, Catherine!" he commands.

"One!" I shout at him, and it sounds like an expletive. He hits me again, and the pain pulses and echoes along the line of the belt. _Holy shit... that smarts!_

"Two!" I scream. _It feels so good to scream. _His breathing is ragged and harsh, whereas mine is almost nonexistent as I desperately scrabble around my psyche looking for some internal strength. The belt bites into my flesh again.

"Three!" Tears spring unwelcome into my eyes. _Jeez, this is harder than I thought it would be... so much harder than the spanking. _He hits me again.

"Four!" I yell as the belt bites me again, and now the tears are streaming down my face. I don't want to cry. It angers me that I'm crying. The belt bites me again.

"Five." My voice is more choked this time, a strangled sob, and in this moment I think I actually hate him. _One more, I can do one more._ My backside feels as if it's on fire. Then it comes once more.

"Six." I whisper as the blistering pain cuts across me again, and I hear him drop the belt behind me, and he's pulling me into his arms, all breathless and compassionate. I want none of him!

"Let go!... No!..." and I find myself struggling out of his grasp, pushing him away. Fighting him. "Get away from me... Don't touch me!" I hiss in sobs, crawling away from him in a crab-walk manner. I straighten and stare at him, and he's watching me as if I might bolt, eyes wide, bemused. I dash the tears angrily out of my eyes with the backs of my hands, glaring at him.

"Is this what you wanted?! This is what you really like?! Me, like this?!" I use the sleeve of the robe to wipe my nose.

He gazes at me warily.

I scoff, sighing deeply, "Well, Vincent Keller, you are one fucked up son of a bitch."

"Catherine." he pleads, shocked.

I hold my had up to stop him from saying more, "Don't you dare _Catherine_ me! You need to sort your shit out, Keller!" And with that, I stand and turn on my heels, heading for the door. I walk out of the playroom, closing the door quietly behind me, clasping the door handle and leaning against the door as more unbidden tears stream down my face. _Where to go? Do I run? Do I stay? _I'm so mad right now. I brush the tears furiously aside. I just want to curl up... curl up and recuperate in some way. Heal my shattered faith. _How could I have been so stupid? _Of course, it hurts.

Tentatively, I rub my backside. _Aah! _It's sore. _Where to go? Not his room... My room? Or is it the room that will be mine? No, is mine... was mine. _This is why he wanted me to keep it. He knew I would need distance from him.

* * *

><p>I launch myself stiffly in that direction, fully aware that Vincent may follow me. It's still dark in the bedroom, dawn only a whisper in the skyline. I climb awkwardly into bed, careful not to sit on my aching and tender backside. I keep the robe on, wrapping it around me, and curl up and really let go, sobbing hard into my pillow.<p>

_What was I thinking? Why did I let him do that to me? _I wanted the dark, to explore how bad it could be, but it's too dark for me. I can't do this. Yet, this is what he does; this is how he gets his kicks.

What a monumental wake-up call. And to be fair to him, he warned me and warned me, time and time again. He's not normal. He has needs that I can't fufill. I realize that now. I don't want him to hit me like that again, ever. I think of the couple of times he's hit me, and how easy he was on me by comparison.

_Is that enough for him? _I sob harder into the pillow. I'm going to lose him. He won't want to be with me if I can't give him this. _Why, why, why have I fallen in love with Fifty Shades? Why? Why can't I love Patrick, or Joe Bishop, or someone like me?!_

_Oh, his distraught look as I left the playroom. _I was so cruel, shocked by the savagery... _will he forgive me?... will I forgive him?! _My thoughts are all haywire and jumbled, echoing and bouncing off the inside of my skull. My subconscious is shaking her head sadly, and my inner goddess is nowhere to be seen. _Oh, this is a dark morning of the soul for me. _I'm so alone... and suddenly, I feel like a child again, wishing my mother was here to comfort me. I remember her parting words at the airport:

_Follow your heart, darling, and please, please—try not to over-think things. Relax and enjoy. You're so young, sweetheart, you have so much to experience, just let it happen. You deserve the best of everything._

And I did just that, I followed my heart, and I have a sore ass and an anguished, broken spirit to show for it. _I have to go. _That's it... I have to leave. He's no good for me, and I'm no good for him_. H__ow can we possibly make this work? _Yet the thought of not seeing him again practically chokes me... _my Fifty Shades..._

* * *

><p>Suddenly, the door clicks open. <em>Oh no... he's here! <em>He puts something down on the bedside table, and the bed shifts under his weight as he climbs in behind me.

"Catherine." he breathes, and I want to pull away from him, but I'm paralyzed. I can't move and I lie stiffly, not yielding at all. "Don't fight me, Catherine. Please." he whispers. Gently, he pulls me into his arms, burying his nose in my hair, kissing my neck. "Don't hate me." he breathes softly against my skin, his voice achingly sad. My heart clenches anew and releases a fresh wave of silent tears. He continues to kiss me softly, tenderly on my shoulder, but I remain aloof and wary.

We lie together like this, neither saying anything for ages. He just holds me, and very gradually, I relax and stop crying. Dawn comes and goes, and the soft light gets brighter as morning moves on, and still we lie quietly.

"I brought you some Advil and lotion." he says after a long while.

I turn very slowly in his arms so I can face him. I'm resting my head on his arm. His eyes are an ashen brown and guarded. I gaze at his beautiful face. He's giving nothing away, but he keeps his eyes on mine, hardly blinking. Oh, he's so breathtakingly good-looking. In such a short time, he's become so, so dear to me.

Reaching up, I caress his cheek and run the tips of my fingers through his stubble. He closes his eyes and exhales.

"I'm sorry." I whisper.

He opens his eyes and looks at me puzzled. "What for?"

"What I said."

"You didn't tell me anything I didn't know already, Catherine." And his eyes soften with relief. "I'm sorry that I hurt you."

I shrug, tears threatening my eyes again. I blink them away, sucking in a huge intake of air and I sigh. "I asked for it. I told you to do it." I whisper. And now, I know. I swallow hard. _Here goes nothing... I need to say my piece. _"I don't think I can be everything you want me to be." I whisper. His eyes widen, and he blinks, his fearful expression returning.

"You are _everything_ I want you to be." he breathes.

_What?_

"I don't understand. I'm not obedient, and you can be as sure as hell that I'm not going to let you do _that _to me again. And that's what you need, you said so yourself."

He closes his eyes again, and I can see myriad emotions cross his face. When he reopens them, his expression is bleak.

_Oh no..._

"You're right, Cat. I should let you go. I'm no good for you."

My scalp prickles as every single hair follicle on my body stands to attention, and the world falls away from me, leaving a wide, yawning abyss for me to fall into. _Oh no!_

"I don't want to go." I whisper. _Fuck! This is it... Pay or play. _Tears swim in my eyes once more.

"I don't want you to go, either." he whispers, his voice raw. He reaches up and gently strokes my cheek and wipes away a falling silent tear with his thumb as he continues, "I've come alive since I've met you."

"Me, too." I pause, taking a deep breath as I prepare myself to tell him how I _truly_ feel about him. _This is it... a moment of truth! You can do this! _"Vincent I... I-I've fallen in love with you."

His eyes widen again, but this time with pure, undiluted fear. "No." he breathes as if I've knocked the wind out of him.

_Oh no!_

"You can't love me, Catherine. No... that's wrong." He's horrified.

"Wrong? Why's it wrong?" I ask.

"Well, look at you. I can't make you happy." His voice is anguished.

"But you _do_ make me happy." I frown.

"Not at the moment, not doing what I want to do." he murmurs.

_Holy fuck! This really is it! _This is what it all boils down to—incompatibility—and all those poor submissive's come to mind.

"We'll never get past that, will we?" I whisper, my scalp prickling in fear. He shakes his head bleakly. I close my eyes. I can't bear to look at him.

"Well..." I clear my throat, fighting the strong need to weep, "I'd better go, then." I murmur, wincing as I sit up.

"No. Don't go, Catherine. Please." He sounds panicked.

"There's no point in me staying." Suddenly, I feel tired, really dog-tired, and I just want this to be over. I want to go home now.

* * *

><p>I climb out of bed, and Vincent follows. I spin around, holding up a hand as the tears begin falling again and I sniff, swallowing back my sobs for a little bit longer. "Just, don't." I look up and meet his gaze, "I'm going to get dressed. I'd like to have some privacy." I add, my voice is flat and empty as I leave him standing in the bedroom.<p>

Heading downstairs, I glance at the great room, thinking how only hours before I had rested my head on his shoulder as he played the piano. So much has happened since then. I've had my eyes opened and I glimpsed the extent of his depravity, and now I know for a fact, he's not capable of love... of giving or receiving love. My worst fears have been realized. And strangely, it's liberating. The pain is such that I refuse to acknowledge it. I feel numb. I've somehow escaped from my body and am now a casual observer to this unfolding tragedy.

I shower quickly and methodically, thinking only of each second in front of me. I finish my shower and dry myself quickly. I dress in the bathroom, taking my jeans and T-shirt out of my small suitcase. My jeans chafe against my backside, but quite frankly, it's a pain I welcome as it distracts me from the even bigger pain I now suffer from with what's happening to my splintering, shattered heart.

I stoop to shut my suitcase and the bag holding Vincent's gift catches my eye. A model kit for a Blanik L23 glider, something for him to build. Tears threaten once more. _Oh... happier times... when there was hope for more. _I take it our of the case, knowing that I need to give it to him. I just can't keep it, knowing it's for him. Quickly, I rip a small piece of paper from my notebook, hastily scribble a note for him, and leave it on top of the box.

_This reminded me of a happy time._

_Thank you._

_Cat_

I gaze at myself in the mirror. A pale and haunted ghost stares back at me. I scoop my hair into a messy bun and ignore how swollen my eye are from crying. My subconscious nods with approval. Even _she_ knows not to be a bitch right now. I can't believe that my world is crumbling around me into a sterile pile of ashes, all my hopes and dreams cruelly dashed. _No, no, don't think about it! Not now, not yet! _

Taking a deep breath, I pick up my case, and after placing the glider and note on his pillow, I head for the great room.

* * *

><p>Vincent is on the phone. He's dressed in black jeans and a white cotton T-shirt. His feet are bare.<p>

"He said what?" he shouts, making me jump. "Well, he could have told us the fucking truth. What's his number? I need to call him... Welch, this is a real fuck-up!" He glances up and doesn't take his dark and brooding eyes off me. "Find her!" he snaps into the phone, and presses the off switch.

I walk over to the couch and collect my backpack, doing my best to ignore him. I take the Mac out of it and walk back toward the kitchen, placing it carefully on the breakfast bar, along with the BlackBerry and the car key to the Audi he bought me. When I turn to face him, he's staring at me, stupefied with horror.

I take a deep breathe. "I need the money that Sam got for my Beetle." My voice is clear and calm, devoid of emotion... _extraordinary._

"Cat, I don't want those things, they're yours." he says in disbelief. "Take them." he adds.

"No, Vincent. I only accepted them under sufferance, and I don't want them anymore."

"Catherine, be reasonable." he scolds me, even now.

"I don't want anything that will remind me of you. I just need the money that Sam got for my car." My voice is quiet monotone.

He gasps. "Are you really trying to wound me?"

"No." I frown, staring at him. _Of course not...I love you! _"I'm not. I'm trying to protect myself." I whisper. _Because you don't want me the same way I want you._

"Catherine, please. Just take them."

"Vincent, I don't want to fight—I just need the money."

He narrows his eyes, but I'm no longer intimidated by him. _Well, only a little. _I gaze impassively back, not blinking or backing down.

He sighs. "Will you take a check?" he says acidly.

"Yeah, I think you're good for it."

He doesn't smile; he just turns on his heel and stalks into his study. I take a last, lingering look around his apartment—at the art on the walls—all abstracts, serene, cool... cold, even. _Fitting, _I think absently. My eyes stray to the piano. _Jeez, if I'd kept my mouth shut, we'd have made love on the piano. No, fucked... We would have fucked on the piano. Well, I would have made love. _

The thought lies heavy and sad in my mind and what's left of my heart. He has never made love to me... _or has he? __No! It's always been fucking to him!_

Vincent returns and hands me an envelope. "Sam got a good price. It's a classic car. You can ask him yourself if you don't believe me. He'll take you home." He nods in the direction over my shoulder. I turn, and Sam is standing in the doorway, wearing his suit, as impeccable as ever.

"Don't worry about me. I can get myself home, thank you." I say as I turn to stare at Vincent, and I see the barely contained fury in his eyes.

"Are you going to defy me at every turn?" he asks.

"Why change a habit of a lifetime?" I give him a small, apologetic shrug.

He closes his eyes in frustration and runs his hand through his hair. "Please, Catherine... Let Sam take you home."

"I'll get the car, Miss Chandler." Sam announces authoritatively. Vincent nods at him, and when I glance around, Sam has gone.

I turn back to face Vincent. We're four feet apart. He steps forward, and instinctively, I step back. He stops, and the anguish in his expression is palpable, his brown eyes burning.

"I don't want you to go." he murmurs, his voice full of longing.

"I can't stay. I know what I want and you can't give it to me, and I can't give you what you need."

He takes another step forward, and I hold up my hands. "Please, don't" I recoil from him. There's no way I can tolerate his touch now, it will completely slay me. Silent tears fall down my cheeks. "I can't do this." I add.

* * *

><p>Grabbing my suitcase and my backpack, I head for the foyer. He follows me, keeping a careful distance. He presses the elevator button, and the doors open. I walk in it.<p>

"Good-bye, Vincent." I mutter shakily as more silent tears fall.

"Catherine, good-bye." he says softly, and he looks utterly, utterly broken, a man in agonizing pain, reflecting how I feel inside. I tear my gaze away from before I change my mind and try to comfort him. The elevator doors fully close and it whisks me down to the bowels of the basement and to my own personal hell.

Sam holds the door open for me, and I climb into the back of the car. I avoid eye contact. Embarrassment and shame washing over me. I'm a complete failure. I'd hoped to drag my Fifty Shades into the light, but it's proved a task beyond my meager abilities. Desperately, I try to keep my emotions banked and at bay.

* * *

><p>As we head out onto Fourth Avenue, I stare blankly out the window, and the enormity of what I've done slowly washes over me. <em>Shit! I've left him... I left Vincent Keller, CEO of Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.! The only man I have ever loved! The only man I've ever slept with! <em>I gasp, as crippling pain slices through me, and the levees burst once more. Tears course unbidden and unwelcome down my cheeks, and I wipe them away hurriedly with my fingers, scrambling in my bag for my sunglasses. As we pause at some traffic light, Sam holds out a linen handkerchief for me. He says nothing and doesn't look in my direction, and I take it with gratitude.

"Thank you." I whisper, and this small discreet act of kindness is my undoing. I sit back in the luxurious leather seat and weep.

The apartment is achingly empty and unfamiliar. I've not lived here long enough for it to feel like home. I head straight to my room, and there, hanging limply at the end of my bed, is a very sad, deflated helicopter balloon. Charlie Tango, looking and feeling exactly like I do. I grab it angrily off my bed-rail, snapping the tie, and hug it to me. _Oh no, what have I done? _

I fall onto my bed, shoes and all, and howl guttering weeps as my body completely shuts down from my choice of leaving the love of my life. The pain is indescribable... physical, mental...metaphysical... it's everywhere, seeping into the marrow of my bones. Grief. This is grief. And I've brought it on myself. Deep down, a nasty, unbidden thought comes from my inner goddess, her lips contorted in a snarl.

The physical pain from the bite of a belt is nothing... _NOTHING, _compared to this devastation. I curl up, desperately clutching the flat foil balloon and Sam's handkerchief, and I surrender myself to my grief. Life will never be the same for me again without my Fifty Shades—and I know that deep down. But there is no going back now... I wail my sobs even harder as I realize that I've lost Vincent Keller forever...

* * *

><p><em><strong>**CRYING HERE! YES I KNOW I'M SORRY AND I LOVE YOU ALL SO FREAKING MUCH! I PROMISE THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL GET BETTER AS OUR LOVE-BIRDS REUNITE ;) MERRY CHRISTMAS GUYS! ENJOY THE HOLIDAYS! TAKING A BREAK NOW... AND I MEAN IT THIS TIME! SORRY FOR THE HEART ACHE!**<strong>_


	27. Chapter 27

***Disclaimer:****E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*WARNING:<strong>** The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, ****graphic sexual content, and DOM/SUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>*Extra:<strong>** I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: I'm baaaack! I hope none of you cried too hard after that last chapter. Hopefully this chapter will help bring you a little joy. From here on out, we will exercise even more challenging limits between the pair as they both are forced to face some of Vincent's deepest, and darkest secrets. Enjoy!)**

_Italics represent Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 27-<strong>_

I've survived Day Three Post-Vincent, and my first day at work. It has been a welcome distraction during these past few days of grief. The time has flown by in a haze of new faces, work to do, and Mr. Gabe Lowan.

Gabe smiles down at me, his dark brown orbs twinkling as he leans against my desk. "Excellent work, Cat. I think we're going to make a great team."

Somehow, I manage to curl my lips upward in a semblance of a smile. "I'll be off, if that's okay with you." I murmur.

"Of course, it's five thirty anyways and time to close down the place. I'll see you tomorrow, Catherine." Gabe mutters, then smiles.

_Jeez! That man gives me the creeps!_

"Goodnight, Gabe." I say as I stand, grabbing my purse and other belongings to take my leave.

"Goodnight, Catherine." he says, walking away, and I shrug on my jacket, heading for the door.

* * *

><p>Out in the early evening air of Seattle, I take a deep breath. But it doesn't begin to fill the void in my chest, a void that's been present since Saturday morning, a painful hollow reminder of my loss. I walk toward the bus stop with my head down, staring at my feet and contemplating being without my beloved Wanda, my old Beetle... or the Audi for that matter.<p>

I shut the door on that thought immediately. _No! Don't think about him!_ Of course, I _can_ afford a car—a nice, new car. I suspect he has been overgenerous in his payment, and the thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, but I dismiss it and try to keep my mind as numb and as blank as possible._ I can't think about him..._ It's just too painful, and I know then I will not be able to hold back the tears. And besides, I'm out on the street, I don't want to cry out here.

* * *

><p>The apartment is empty. I miss Tess, and I imagine her lying on a beach in Barbados, sipping a cool cocktail. I turn on the flat-screen television so there's noise to fill the vacuum and provide some semblance of company. But I don't listen or watch. I just sit and stare blankly at the brick wall. I'm numb... I feel nothing but pain anymore. <em>How long must I endure this suffering?<em>

The door buzzer startles me from my anguish, and my heart skips a beat. _Who could that be? _I press the intercom.

"Delivery for Miss Chandler." A bored, disembodied voice answers, and disappointment crashes through me. I listlessly make my way downstairs and find a young man, noisily chewing gum, holding a rather large cardboard box while leaning against the front door.

"Sign, please." he smiles.

I sign for the package, thank the man, and take it upstairs. The box is huge, but surprisingly light. I sit it down on the kitchen table and I grab a knife to cut it open. Inside are two dozen long-stemmed, white roses and a card.

_Congratulations on your first day at work._

_I hope it went well._

_And thank you for the glider. That was very thoughtful of you._

_It has pride of place on my desk._

_Vincent._

I stare at the typed card, the hollow in my chest expanding. No doubt, his assistant sent this. Vincent probably had very little to do with it. It's too painful to think about it. I examine the roses—they're beautiful, and I can't bring myself to throw them in the trash. Dutifully, I make my way into the kitchen to hunt down a vase.

It becomes obvious to me now that I have formed a pattern with my life since leaving Vincent: wake, work, cry, sleep. Well, _try _to sleep. I can't even escape him in my dreams. Brown burning eyes, his lost look, his hair golden brown and bright—all haunt me. And the music... so much music—I can't bear to hear any music. I'm careful to avoid it at all costs. Even the jingles in commercials make me shudder.

I haven't spoke with anyone since our break-up, not even my mother or Thomas. I don't have the capacity for idle talk right now. _No, I want none of it!_ I have become my own island state. A ravaged, war-torn land where nothing grows and the horizons are bleak. _Yes, that's me._ I can interact impersonally at work, but that's it. If I talk to Mom, I know I will break even further—and I have nothing left to break.

* * *

><p>I've found it difficult to eat. By Wednesday at lunchtime, I finally manage a cup of yogurt, and it's the first thing I've eaten since Friday. I'm surviving on a new-found tolerance for lattes and Diet Coke. It's the caffeine that keeps me going, but it's making me anxious.<p>

Gabe has started to hovering over me while I eat, irritating me, asking me personal questions. _What does he want?_ I'm polite, but need to him at arm's length.

After lunch, I sit and begin trawling through a pile of correspondence addressed to Mr. Lowan, and I'm pleased with the distraction of menial work. Suddenly, my e-mail pings, and instantly my heart drops. I quickly check to see who it's from.

_Holy shit! An e-mail from Vincent! Oh no, not here... not at work._

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject: **Tomorrow

**Date:** June 8 2011 14:05

**To:** Catherine Chandler

Dear Catherine,

Forgive this intrusion at work. I hope that it's going well. Did you get my flowers?

I note that tomorrow is the gallery opening for your friend's show, and I'm sure you've not had time to purchase a car. Not to mention it's a long drive. I'd be more than happy to take you—should you wish.

Let me know.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p>Tears swim in my eyes. I hastily leave my desk and bolt for the restroom to escape into one of the stalls. <em>Patrick's show! Crap!<em> I'd forgotten all about it already, and I promised him I'd be there. _Shit! Vincent is right; how am I going to get there?_

I clutch my forehead. _Why hasn't Patrick phoned? _Come to think about it—_why hasn't anyone phoned me? _I've been so absentminded, I haven't noticed that my cell phone has been silent.

Then it hits me. _Shit! I'm such an idiot! _I still have my phone on divert to the BlackBerry Vincent had given me. And it's there at Escala where I left it. _Holy hell! _Vincent must have been getting my calls—_unless he threw the phone away. _And another thing—_how did he get my e-mail address?_

_He knows your show size, moron, an e-mail address is hardly going to present him with many problems, _my subconscious laughs at me; the bitch.

_But is it that simple? Can I see him again? Could I bear it? Do I want to see him again? _I close my eyes and tilt my head back against the wall as grief and longing lance through me. _Of course I do!_

Perhaps... perhaps I can tell him I've changed my mind... _No, no, no! _I can't be with someone who takes pleasure in inflicting pain on me, someone who can't _love_ me.

Torturous memories flash through my mind: the gliding, holding hands, kissing in the elevator, the bathtub, his gentleness, his humor, and his dark, brooding, yet sexy gaze. I miss 's been five days, _FIVE DAYS, _of agony that has felt like an eternity.

I wrap my arms around my body, hugging myself tightly, holding myself together. _I miss him! I really miss him... and I love him! Simple._

I've been crying myself to sleep every night since my departure, wishing I hadn't walked out, wishing that he could be different, wishing that we were together. _How long will this hideous, overwhelming feeling last? _I'm in purgatory.

_Catherine Chandler, you are at work! _I scream at myself. I must be strong, but I want to go to Patrick's show, and deep down, the masochist in me wants to see Vincent.

Taking a deep breath, I head back to my desk and stare at the e-mail Vincent sent me. I hit reply.

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Tomorrow

**Date: **June 8 2011 14:25

**To: **Vincent Keller

Hi, Vincent,

Thank you for the flowers; they're lovely.

Yes, I would appreciate a lift.

Thanks!

Catherine Chandler

Assistant to Gabriel Lowan, Commissioning Editor, SIP

* * *

><p>I release the breath I had been holding in as I typed my response back to him. I check my phone and find that it's still switched to divert. Gabe is in a meeting, so I quickly call Patrick.<p>

"Hi, Patrick. It's Cat."

"Hello, stranger." His tone is so warm and welcoming, it's almost enough to push me over the edge again.

"I can't talk long. What time should I be there tomorrow for your show?" I murmur with a sigh.

"You're still coming?" he asks, excitedly.

"Yes, of course." I smile my first genuine smile in fives days as I picture his broad grin.

"Seven thirty."

"See you then. Good-bye, Patrick."

He sighs, "Bye, Catherine."

I put my phone down and notice that Vincent had e-mailed me back.

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Tomorrow

**Date:** June 8 2011 14:27

**To: **Catherine Chandler

Dear Catherine,

What time shall I pick you up?

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject: **Tomorrow

**Date:** June 8 2011 14:32

**To:** Vincent Keller

Patrick's show starts at 7:30. What time do would you suggest?

Catherine Chandler

Assistant to Gabriel Lowan, Commissioning Editor, SIP

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Tomorrow

**Date:** June 8 2011 14:34

**To:** Catherine Chandler

Dear Catherine,

Portland is some distance away. I'll pick you up at 5:45.

I look forward to seeing you.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Tomorrow

**Date:** June 8 2011 14:38

**To:** Vincent Keller

See you then...

Catherine Chandler

Assistant to Gabriel Lowan, Commissioning Editor, SIP

* * *

><p><em>Oh my! <em>I'm really doing this. _I'm going to see Vincent Keller again!_ And for the first time in five days, my spirits lift a fraction and I allow myself to wonder how he's been.

_Has he missed me? _Probably not like I have missed him. _Has he found a new submissive from wherever they come from? _The thought is so painful that I dismiss it immediately. I look at the pile of correspondence I need to sort for Gabe and tackle it as I try to push Vincent out of my mind once more.

* * *

><p>That night in bed, I toss and turn, trying to sleep. It's the first time in a while I haven't cried myself to sleep. N my mind's eye, I visualize Vincent's face the last time I saw him as I left his apartment. His tortured expression still haunts me. I remember he didn't want me to go, which was odd. <em>Why would I stay when things had reached such an impasse?<em> We were each skirting around our own issues—my fear of punishment, and his fear of... _what? Love?_

Turning on my side, I hug my pillow. I'm filled with an overwhelming sadness. He thinks he doesn't deserve to be loved. _Why does he feel that way? Is it something to do with his upbringing? His birth mother, the crack whore? _My thoughts plague me into the early hours until eventually I fall into a fitful, exhausted sleep.

* * *

><p>The day drags and Gabe is unusually attentive. I suspect it's Tess' plum dress and the black high-heeled boots I've stolen from her closet, but I don't dwell on the thought. I resolve to go clothes shopping with my first paycheck. The dress is looser on me than it was the last time I wore it, but I'm trying to pretend not to notice.<p>

Finally, it's five-thirty, and I collect my jacket and purse, trying to quell my nerves. _I'm going to see him! _

"Do you have a date tonight?" Gabe asks as he strolls past my desk on his way out.

"Yes... No... Well, not really." I mutter. He cocks an eyebrow at me, his interest clearly piqued. "Boyfriend?"

I flush. "No, a friend. An ex-boyfriend." I sigh.

"Maybe tomorrow you'd like to come for a drink after work. You've had a stellar first week, Cat. We should celebrate." He smiles and some unknown emotion flits across his face, making me uneasy. Putting his hands in his pockets, he saunters through the double doors. I frown at his retreating back. _Drinks with the boss? Is that a good idea?_

I shake my head. I have an evening of Vincent Keller to get through first. _How am I going to do this? _I hurry into the restroom to make last-minute adjustments.

In the large mirror on the wall, I take a long, hard look at my face. I'm my usual, pale self with dark circles around my too-large eyes. I look gaunt and haunted. _Jeez! Wish I knew how to use make-up... _I grab my purse and grab what make-up I do have and apply some mascara and eyeliner to try to enhance my eyes. I pinch my cheeks, hoping to bring some color their way and tidying my hair so that it hangs artfully down my back. I take a deep breath. _This will have to do._

Nervously, I walk through the foyer of SIP with a smile and a wave to Claire at reception. I think she and I could become friends.

Gabe is talking to Tyler as I head for the doors. Smiling broadly, he hurries over to open them for me. "After you, Catherine." he murmurs.

"Thank you." I smile, embarrassed.

* * *

><p>Outside on the curb, Sam is waiting. He opens the rear door of the black Audi SUV. I glance hesitantly at Gabe, who has followed me out to the car. He's looking toward the SUV in dismay.<p>

I turn and climb into the back, and there he sits—Vincent Keller—wearing his gray suit, no tie, his white shirt open at the collar, and his golden, chocolate brown eyes are glowing. My mouth goes dry. He looks glorious except he's scowling at me. _Oh no..._

"When was the last time you've ate?" he snaps as Sam closes the door behind me.

_Shit! _"Hello, Vincent. Yes, it's nice to see you, too."

"I don't want your smart mouth now, Catherine. Answer me." His eyes blaze.

_Holy shit! _"Um... I had a yogurt at lunchtime. Oh—and a banana."

"When did you last have a proper meal?" he asks acidly. Sam slips into the driver's seat, starts the car, and pulls out into the traffic. I glance up and Gabe is waving at me, though I have no idea how he can even see me through the dark glass of the window. I wave back.

"Who's that?" Vincent snaps.

"My boss." I peek up at the beautiful man beside me, and his mouth is pressed into a hard line.

"Well? Your last meal?" he prompts.

"Vincent, that really isn't none of your concern." I snap, crossing my arms, feeling extraordinarily brave.

"Everything you do, Catherine, concerns me. Tell me." he mutters, his eyes soften.

_No, it doesn't! _I groan in frustration, rolling my eyes heavenward, and Vincent narrows his eyes at me. And for the first time in a long time, I feel the urge to laugh. I try hard to stifle the giggle that threatens to bubble up, and thankfully I succeed. Vincent's face softens as I struggle to keep a straight face, and I see a trace of a smile kiss his beautifully sculptured lips.

"Well?" he asks, his voice softer.

"Pasta alla vongole, last Friday." I whisper, shifting uncomfortably as I clear my throat.

He closes his eyes as fury, and possibly regret, sweeps across his face. "I see." he says, his voice expressionless. "You look like you've lost at least five pounds, possibly more since then. Please eat, Catherine." he scolds.

I stare down at my knotted fingers in my lap. _Why does he always make me feel like an errant child? _He shifts and turns toward me. "How are you?" he breathes, his voice still soft.

_Well, Keller... I'm shit really... _I swallow the lump in my throat, staring out of the window. "If I told you I was fine, I'd be lying." I whisper.

He inhales sharply. "Me, too." he murmurs and reaches over and clasps my hand. "I miss you." he adds.

_Oh, God no... Skin against skin..._

"Vincent, I—"

"Catherine, please. We need to talk."

_Oh no... I'm going to cry! No! I can't do this! _"Vincent, I...please...I've cried enough in the past few days. I don't think I can take much more." I whisper, trying to keep my emotions in check.

"Oh, Catherine..." he tugs my hand, and before I know it, I'm on his lap. He has his arms around me, and his nose is in my hair. "I've missed you so much, Catherine." he breathes.

I want to struggle out of his hold, to maintain some distance, but his arms are wrapped around me. He's pressing me to his chest. I melt. _Oh, this is where I want to be..._ I rest my head against him, and he kisses my hair repeatedly. _This is home_. He smells of linen, fabric softener, body wash, and my all time favorite scent—Vincent. For a moment, I allow myself the illusion that all will be well, and it soothes my ravaged soul.

* * *

><p>A few minutes later, Sam pulls to a stop at the curb, even though we're still in Seattle.<p>

"Come on." Vincent shifts me off of his lap, "We're here."

_What?_

"Helipad... on the roof of this building." Vincent glances toward the building by way of explanation. _Of course! Charlie Tango! _Sam opens the door and I slide out. He gives me a warm, avuncular smile that makes me feel safe. I smile back at him. "I should give you your handkerchief back." I say to Sam.

"Keep it, Miss Chandler, with my best wishes." he nods.

I flush as Vincent comes around the car and takes my hand. He looks quizzically at Sam, who stares impassively back at him, revealing nothing.

"Nine?" Vincent says to him.

"Yes, sir."

Vincent nods as he turns and leads me through the double doors into the grandiose foyer. I revel in the feel of his large hand and his long, skilled fingers webbed in between mine. I feel the familiar pull—I'm drawn, Icarus to his sun. I've been burned already once, and yet here I am again.

Reaching for the elevators, he presses the call button. I peek up at him, and he's wearing his enigmatic half smile. As the doors open, he releases my hand and ushers me in. The doors close behind us and I risk a second peek. He glances down at me, brown eyes are alive, and it's there in the air between us... that electricity. It's palpable. I can almost taste it, pulsing between us, drawing us together.

"Dear God." I gasp in a whisper as I bask briefly in the intensity of this visceral, primal attraction.

"I feel it too." he says, his eyes clouded and intense.

Desire pools dark and deadly in my groin. He clasps my hand and grazes my knuckles with his thumb, and all my muscles clench tightly, deliciously, deep inside me. _Sweet Jesus! How can he still do this to me?_

"Please don't bite your lip, Catherine." he whispers. I gaze up at him, releasing my lip. I want him. Here... Now... In the elevator. _How could I not? _"You know what it does to me." he adds in a murmur. _Oh, I still affect him! _My inner goddess stirs from her five-day sulk.

Abruptly the doors open, breaking the spell, and we're on the roof. It's windy, and despite my black jacket, I'm freezing. Vincent puts his arm around me, pulling me into his side, and we hurry across to where Charlie Tango stands in the center of the helipad with it's rotor blades slowly spinning.

A tall, square-jawed man in a dark suit leaps out and, ducking low, runs toward us. Shaking hands with Vincent, he shouts above the noise of the rotors, "Ready to go, sir. She's all yours."

"All checks done?" Vincent shouts.

"Yes, sir."

"You'll collect her around eight thirty?"

"Yes sir."

"Sam's waiting for you out front."

"Thank you, Mr. Keller. Safe flight to Portland. Ma'am." He salutes me. Without releasing me, Vincent nods, ducks down, and leads me to the helicopter door.

* * *

><p>Once inside he buckles me firmly into my harness, cinching the straps tight. He gives me a knowing look and his secret smile. "This should keep you in your place." he murmurs. "I must say, I do like this harness on you. Don't touch anything."<p>

I flush a deep crimson, and he runs his index finger down my cheek before handing me the headphones. _I'd like to touch you, too, but you won't let me. _I scowl at him. Besides, he's pulled the straps so tight I can barely move.

He sits in his seat and buckles himself in, then starts running through all his preflight checks. He's just so competent. It's very alluring. He puts on his headphones, flipping a switch, and the rotors speed up, deafening me.

Turning, he gazes at me, "Ready, Cat?" His voice echoes through the headphones.

"Yep." I whisper. He grins his boyish grin. _Wow... I've not seen it for so long. _

"Sea-Tac tower, this is Charlie Tango—Tango Echo Hotel, cleared for take-off to Portland via PDX. Please confirm, over."

The disembodied voice of the air traffic controller answers, issuing instructions.

"Roger, tower, Charlie Tango set, over and out." Vincent says as he flips two switches, grasps the stick, and the helicopter rises slowly and smoothly into the evening sky. Seattle and my stomach drop away from us, and there's so much to see.

"We've chased the dawn together, Catherine. Now we chase the dusk." his voice comes through on the headphones. I turn to gape at him in surprise. _What does this mean? How is it that he can say the most romantic things? _He smiles, and I can't help but smile shyly back at him.

"As well as the evening sun, there's more to see this time." he says. The last time we flew to Seattle it was dark, but this time the view is spectacular, literally out of this world. We're up among the tallest buildings, going higher and higher.

"Escala's just over there." He points toward the building. "Boeing there, and you can just see the Space Needle."

I crane my head. "I've never been." I murmur.

"I'll take you. We can eat there."

_What? _ "Vincent, we broke up. We're not together anymore."

"I know... But I can still take you there and feed you." He glares at me. I shake my head and flush before taking a less confrontational approach. "It's very beautiful up here, thank you."

"Impressive, isn't it?" he smiles.

"Impressive that you can do this." I murmur.

"Flattery from you, Miss Chandler? But I'm a man of many talents." he says confidentally.

I flush. "I'm fully aware of that, Mr. Keller."

He turns and smirks at me, and for the first time in five days, I relax a little. Perhaps this won't be so bad.

"How's the new job?" he asks.

"Good, thank you. It's quite interesting at SIP."

"What's your boss like?"

"Oh, he's okay." _How can I tell Vincent that Gabe makes me uncomfortable? _Vincent turns and gazes at me. "What's wrong?" he asks.

"Aside from the obvious, nothing." I mutter.

"The obvious?"

"Oh, Vincent, you really are very obtuse sometimes."

"Obtuse? Me? I'm not sure I appreciate your tone, Miss Chandler."

"Well, don't then." I snap. His lips twitch into a smile. "I've missed your smart mouth, Catherine."

I gasp and I want to shout, _I've missed you—all of you—not just your mouth! _But I keep quiet and gaze out the fishbowl glass that is Charlie Tango's windshield as we continue south. The dusk is to our right, the sun low on the horizon—large, blazing fiery orange—and I am Icarus again, flying far too close. The dusk has followed us from Seattle, and the sky is awash with opal, pinks, and aquamarines woven seamlessly together as only Mother Nature knows how. It's a clear, crisp evening, and the lights of Portland twinkle and wink, welcoming us as Vincent sets the helicopter down on the helipad. We are on top of the strange brown brick building in Portland that we had left less than three weeks ago. _Jeez, it's been hardly any time at all. _Yet I feel like I've known Vincent for a lifetime.

* * *

><p>He powers down Charlie Tango, flipping various switches so the rotors stop, and eventually all I hear is my own breathing through the headphones. <em>Hmm... <em>Briefly it reminds me of the Nine Inch Nails experience. I blanch. _I am so not going there right now!_

Vincent unbuckles his harness and leans across to undo mine. "Good trip, Miss Chandler?" he asks, his voice mild, his brown eyes glowing.

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Keller." I reply politely.

"Well, let's go see the boy's photos." He holds his hand out to me and taking it, I climb out of Charlie Tango. He leads me to the emergency stairs and I instantly wonder why we're not taking the elevator.

"It's being worked on." he says, answering my unspoken question. _How the hell does he do that?! _"Good thing for you, this is only three floors in _those_ heels." he mutters to me in disapproval.

_Really? No kidding!_

"Don't you like the boots?"

"I like them very much, Catherine." His gaze darkens and I think he might say something else, but he stops. "Come on. We'll take it slow. I don't want you to fall and break your neck."

* * *

><p>We sit in silence as our driver takes us to the gallery. My anxiety has returned full force, and Vincent is quiet and brooding... apprehensive even; our lighter mood from earlier has dissipated. There's so much I want to say, but this journey is too short. Vincent stares pensively out the window.<p>

"Patrick is just a friend." I murmur, suddenly feeling like I should explain. He turns and gazes at me, his eyes dark and guarded, giving nothing away. His mouth—_oh, his mouth is very distracting, and unbidden. How I wish I could feel them on me again... everywhere. _My skin heats at the thought. He shifts in his seat and frowns.

"Those beautiful eyes look too large in your face, Catherine. Please tell me you'll eat." he whispers.

"Alright, Vincent. I'll eat." I answer automatically, a platitude.

"I mean it." he growls.

"Do you now, Mr. Keller?" I can't keep the disdain out of my voice. Honestly, the audacity of this man—this man who has put me through the hell that made me this way... _No, that's wrong of me. I've put myself through hell... No, it's him... UGH! _I shake my head, confused.

"I don't want to fight with you, Catherine. I want you back, and I want you healthy." he says softly, gazing into my eyes.

_What?! What does that mean? _"Nothing's changed, Vincent." _You're still Fifty Shades... _I sigh.

"Let's talk on the way back. We're here." he murmurs.

* * *

><p>The car pulls up in front of the gallery, and Vincent climbs out, leaving me speechless. He opens the car door for me, and I clamber out. "Why do you do that?" My voice is louder than I expected.<p>

"Do what?" Vincent's taken aback.

"Say something like _that_ and then just stop talking all at once." I snap.

"Catherine, we're at the show, where you want to be. Let's do this and then we'll talk. I don't particularly want a scene in the street."

I flush and glance around. He's right. It's too public. I press my lips together as he glares down at me. "Okay, fine." I mutter sulkily. Taking my hand, he leads me into the building.

* * *

><p>We're in a converted warehouse—brick walls, dark wood floors, white ceilings, and white pipe work. It's airy and modern, and there are several people wandering across the gallery floor, sipping wine and admiring Patrick's work. For a moment, my troubles melt away as I grasp that Patrick has realized his dream. <em>Way to go, Patrick!<em>

"Good evening and welcome to Patrick Franco's show." A young woman dressed in black with very short brown hair, bright red lips, and large hooped earrings greets us. She glances briefly at me, then much longer than is strictly necessary at Vincent. She turns back to face me, blinking as she blushes. My brow creases. _He's mine!-_or he was. I try hard not to scowl at her.

As her eyes regain their focus, she blinks again. "Oh, it's you, Catherine. We'll want your take on all this, too." Grinning, she hands me a brochure and directs me to a table laden with drinks and snacks. _How does she know my name?_

"You know her?" Vincent frowns. I shake my head, equally puzzled. He shrugs, distracted. "What would you like to drink?"

"Wine will be fine, thank you." I reply politely. His brow furrows, but he holds his tongue and heads for the open bar.

"Catherine!" Patrick comes barreling through a throng of people.

_Holy cow! He's wearing a suit!_ He looks good and he's beaming at me. He enfolds me in his arms, hugging me hard, and it's all I can do not to burst into tears. _My friend... my only friend while Tess is away. _Tears pool in my eyes.

"Cat, I'm so glad you made it." he whispers in my ear, then pauses and abruptly holds me at arms length, staring at me.

"What?" I mutter, confused by his troubled gaze.

"Are you okay? You look... well, odd. Dios mio, Catherine! Have you lost weight?"

I blink back my tears. "Patrick, I'm fine. I'm just so happy for you." _Crap! Not to him, too! _"Congratulations on the show." My voice wavers as I see his concern deepen on his oh-so-familiar face. But I have to hold myself together.

"How did you get here?" he asks.

"Vincent brought me." I say, suddenly apprehensive.

"Oh." Patrick's face falls and he releases me. "Where is he?" His expression darkens.

"Over there, fetching drinks." I nod in Vincent's direction and see he's exchanging pleasantries with someone waiting in line. Vincent glances up when I look his way and our eyes lock. And in that brief moment, I'm paralyzed, staring at the impossibly handsome man who gazes at me with some unfathomable emotion. His gaze hot, burning into me, and we're lost for a moment staring at each other.

_Holy cow! This beautiful man wants me back—_and deep down inside me, sweet joy slowly unfurls like a morning glory in the early dawn.

"Cat!" Patrick distracts me, and I'm dragged back to the here and now. "I'm so glad you came... Listen, I should warn you—"

Suddenly, Miss Very Short Hair and Red Lipstick cuts him off. "Patrick, the journalist from the Portland Printz is here to see you. Come on." She gives me a polite smile.

"How cool is this?! The fame." Patrick grins, and I can't help but grin back—_he's so happy. _"Catch ya later, Cat." He kisses my cheek, and I watch him stroll over to a young woman standing by a tall, lanky photographer.

Patrick's photographs are everywhere, and in some cases, blown up onto huge canvases. There are both monochromes and colors. There's an ethereal beauty to many of the landscapes. In one taken out near the lake at Vancouver, it's early evening and pink clouds are reflected in the stillness of the water. Briefly, I'm transported by the tranquility and the peace. It's simply stunning.

Vincent joins me, and I take a deep breath and swallow, trying to recover some of my earlier equilibrium. He hands me my glass of wine.

"Does it come up to scratch?" my voice sounds more normal. He looks quizzically at me. "The wine." I murmur.

"No. Rarely does at these kinds of events. The boy's quite talented, isn't he?" Vincent is admiring the lake photo.

"Why else do you think I asked him to take your portrait?" I can't help the pride in my voice. His eyes glide impassively from the photograph to me.

"Vincent Keller?" The photographer from the Portland Printz approaches Vincent. "Can I have a pictire, sir?"

"Sure." Vincent hides his scow. I step back, but he grabs my hand and pulls me to his side. The photographer looks at both of us and can't hide his surprise.

"Mr. Keller, thank you." He snaps a couple of photos. "Miss...?"

"Chandler." I reply.

"Thank you, Miss Chandler." He scurries off.

I sigh. "I looked for pictures of you with dates on the Internet. There aren't any. That's why Tess thought you were gay." I smirk.

Vincent's mouth twitches with a smile. "That explains your inappropriate question. No, I don't do dates, Catherine—only with you. But you know that." His eyes burn with sincerity.

"So you never took your"—I glance around nervously to check no one can overhear us—"subs out?"

"Sometimes. Not on dates though. Shopping, you know." He shrugs, his eyes not leaving mine.

_Oh, so jut in the playroom... The Red Room of Pain and his apartment. _I honestly don't know how to feel about that.

"Just you, Catherine." he whispers. I blush and stare down at my fingers. _In his own way, he does care about me._

"Your friend here seems more of a landscape man, not portraits. Let's look around." He holds his hand out to me, and I hesitate before taking it. We wander past a few more prints, and I notice a couple nodding at me, smiling broadly as if they know me. It must be because I'm here with Vincent, but one young man is blatantly staring. _Hmm, odd._

We turn the corner, and I finally see why I've been getting strange looks all evening. Hanging on the far wall are five huge portraits—all of _me?!_ I stare blankly at them, stupefied, and the blood is ever so slowly draining from my face. Me: pouting, laughing, scowling, serious, and amused; all in super close up—all in black and white.

_Motherfuck! _I remembered Patrick messing with the camera on a couple of occasions when he was visiting and when I'd been out with him as driver and photographer's assistant. He took snapshots, or so I thought... Not these invasive candids.

I glance up at Vincent, who is staring transfixed, at each of the pictures in turn.

"Seems I'm not the only one." Vincent mutters cryptically, his mouth settling into a hard line. I think he's angry. _Oh no! _"Excuse me." he says, pinning me with his bright brown gaze for a moment. He turns and heads to the reception desk.

_What's his problem now? _I watch mesmerized as he talks animatedly with Miss Very Short Hair and Red Lipstick. He fishes out his wallet and produces his credit card. _Shit... he must have bought one of them._

"Hey. Your the muse. These photographs are terrific." A young man with a shock of bright blond hair startles me. I feel a hand at my elbow and Vincent is back. "You're a lucky man." Blond Shock smirks at Vincent, who gives him a cold stare.

"That, I am." he mutters darkly, as he pulls me over to one side.

"Did you buy one of these?" I ask.

"One of these?" He snorts, not taking his eyes off them.

"You bought more than one?"

He rolls his eyes. "I bought them all, Catherine. I don't want some stranger ogling you in the privacy of their home."

I laugh. "You'd rather it was you" I scoff.

He glares down at me, caught off guard by my audacity, I think, but he's trying to hide his amusement. "Frankly, yes."

"Pervert." I mouth at him and bite my lower lip to prevent my smile. His mouth drops open, and now his amusement is obvious. He strokes his chin thoughtfully. "Can't argue with that assessment, Catherine." He shakes his head, and his eyes soften with humor.

"I'd discuss it further with you, but I've signed an NDA." I smirk.

He sighs, gazing at me, and his eyes darken. "What I'd like to do to your smart mouth." he murmurs.

I gasp, knowing full well what he means. "You're very rude." I try to sound shocked and succeed. _Does he have no boundaries?_

He smirks at me, amused, and then he frowns. "You look very relaxed in these photographs, Catherine. I don't see you like that very often."

_What? Whoa! _Change of subject_—talk about non-sequitur—_from playful to serious. I flush and glance down at my fingers. He tilts my head back, and I inhale sharply at the contact with his long fingers.

"I want you that relaxed with me." he whispers. All trace of humor has gone. Deep down, that joy stirs again. _But how can this be?_ _We have issues_.

"You have to stop intimidating me if you want that." I snap.

"And you have to learn to communicate and tell me how you feel." he snaps back, eyes blazing.

I take a deep breath. "Vincent, you wanted me as a submissive. That's where the problem lies. It's in the definition of a submissive—you emailed it to me once." I pause, trying to recall the wording. "I think the synonyms were, and I quote, 'compliant, pliant, amenable, passive, tractable, resigned, patient, doctile, tame, subdued.' I wasn't supposed to look at you. Not talk to you unless you gave me permission to do so. What do you expect?" I hiss at him. He blinks, and his frown deepens as I continue, "It's very confusing being with you. You don't want me to defy you, but then you like my 'smart mouth'. You want obedience, except when you don't, so you can punish me. I just don't know which way is up when I'm with you."

He narrows his eyes, "Good point, well made, as usual, Miss Chandler." His voice is frigid. "Come on. Let's go eat."

"We've only been here for half an hour." I snap.

"You've seen the photos; you've spoken to the boy."

"Patrick. His name is Patrick."

"You've spoken to Patrick—the man who, the last time I met him, was trying to push his tongue into your reluctant mouth while you were drunk and ill." he snarls.

"Well, he's never hit me!" I spit at him.

Vincent scowls at me, fury emanating from every pore. "That's a low blow, Catherine." he whispers menacingly. I flush, and Vincent runs his hands through his hair, bristling with barely contained anger. I glare back at him. "I'm taking you for something to eat. You're fading away in front of me. Find Patrick, and say god-bye."

"Please, can we stay longer?" I sound childish as I speak.

"No. Go. Now. Say good-bye."

I glare at him, my blood boiling. Mr. Damned Control Freak. Angry is good. Angry is better than tearful. I drag my gaze away from him and scan the room for Patrick. He's talking to a group of young women. I stalk towards him and away from Fifty. _Just because he brought me here, I have to do as he says? Who the hell does he think he is?_

* * *

><p>The girls are hanging onto Patrick's every word. One of them gasps as I approach, no doubt recognizing me from the poprtraits.<p>

"Patrick." I say, forcing a smile.

"Hey, Cat... Excuse me, ladies." Patrick grins at them and puts his arm around me, and on some level I'm amused—_Patrick all smooth, impressing the ladies._

"You look pissed off." he says in a sigh.

"I have to go." I mutter mulishly.

"You just got here." he nearly whines.

"I know, but Vincent needs to get back. The pictures are fantastic, Patrick—you're very talented."

He beams. "It was so cool seeing you again. I've missed you, Cat." He says, sweeping me up into a big bear hug, spinning me so I can see Vincent across the gallery over Patrick's shoulder. Vincent's scowling at me, and I realize it's because I'm in Patrick's arms. So in a very calculating move, I wrap my arms around Patrick's neck. I think Vincent is going to expire when I glance at him again. His glare darkens to something quite sinister, and slowly he makes his way toward us.

"Thanks for the warning about the portraits of me." I mumble.

"Shit. Sorry, Catherine. I should have told you. D'you like them?"

"Um... I don't know." I answer truthfully, momentarily knocked off balance by his question.

"Well, they're all sold, so somebody likes them. How cool is that? You're a poster girl." He hugs me tighter still as Vincent reaches us, glowering at me now, though fortunately Patrick doesn't see.

He releases me. "Don't be a stranger, Cat." he smiles then turns, facing Vincent. "Oh, Mr. Keller, good evening."

"Mr. Franco, very impressive." Vincent sounds icily polite. "I'm sorry we can't stay longer, but we need to head back to Seattle." he smiles, then looks at me. "Catherine?" He subtly stresses me and takes my hand as he does so.

"Bye, Patrick. Congratulations again!" I give him a quick kiss on the cheek, and before I know it, Vincent is dragging me out of the building. I know he's boiling with silent wrath, but I don't really give a flying fuck. I've reached my boiling point too.

* * *

><p>He looks quickly up and down the street then heads left and suddenly sweeps me into a side alley, abruptly pushing me up against a wall. He grabs my face between his hands, forcing me to look up into his ardent determined eyes.<p>

I gasp, and his mouth swoops down, and he begins kissing me, violently. Briefly, our teeth clash, then his tongue is in my mouth. Desire explodes like the Fourth of July throughout my body, and suddenly, I begin kissing him back, matching his fervor, my hands knotting in his hair, pulling it, hard. He groans, a low, sexy sound in the back of his throat that reverberates through me, and his hand moves down my body to the top of my thigh, his fingers digging into my flesh through the plum dress.

I pour all the angst and heartbreak of the last few days into our kiss, binding him to me. Then it hits me—in this moment of blinding passion—he's doing the same, he feels the same as I do.

He brakes off the kiss, panting. His eyes are luminous with desire, firing the already heated blood that is pounding through my body. My mouth is slack as I try to drag precious air into my lungs.

"You. Are. Mine." He snarls, emphasizing each word. He pushes away from me and bends, hands on his knees as if he's run a marathon. "For the love of God, Catherine."

I lean against the wall, panting, trying to control the riotous reaction in my body, trying to find my equilibrium again.

"I'm sorry." I whisper once my breath has returned.

"You should be. I know what you were doing. Do you want the photographer, Catherine? Because he obviously has feelings for you."

I flush and shake my head. "No. He's just a friend."

"I have spent all my adult life trying to avoid any extreme emotion, yet you... you bring out feelings in me that are completely alien to me. It's very...unsettling." He pauses as he licks his lips before continuing, "I like control, Cat, and around you that just"-he stands, his gaze intense—"evaporates." He waves his hand vaguely, then runs it through his hair and takes a deep breath. He clasps my hand. "Let's go. We need to talk, and you need to eat."

_Ugh! This is going to be a long night..._

* * *

><p><em><strong>**Hey guys! I hope that was thrilling lol. It was for me as my heart swooned to every detail ;) Anyways, reviews are always welcome and feel free to ask questions, I will be happy to answer in my Author's Notes or in PM. Thanks!**<strong>_


	28. Chapter 28

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><strong>*WARNING: The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, graphic sexual content, and DOMSUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Extra: I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: WOW! Yal completely are like the greatest people EVER! THANK YOU! I had planned on a longer break, but since my husband was at work I decided WHY THE HECK NOT? Lol. I hope you all enjoy this chapter as a little more of Vincent's past is reveal. ITS SWOON-ER-RIFIC! Lol. Enjoy!)**

_Italics represent Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 28-<strong>_

Vincent leads me down the street from the show to a little restaurant on the corner of the street.

"It's small, but it'll do." he murmurs as he leads me inside.

_The restaurant looks fine to me._ Wooden chairs, linen tablecloths, and walls the same color as Vincent's playroom—deep blood red, with small gilt mirrors randomly placed, white candles, and small vases of white roses. Ella Fitzgerald croons softly in the background about this thing called love. It's very romantic.

The waiter leads us to a table for two in a small alcove, and I sit, apprehensive and wondering what he's going to say.

"We don't have long," Vincent says to the waiter as we sit. "So we'll each have sirloin steak cooked medium, béarnaise sauce if you have it, fries, and green vegetables, whatever the chef has; and bring me the wine list."

"Certainly, sir." The waiter, taken aback by Vincent's cool, calm efficiency, scuttles off. Vincent places his BlackBerry on the table. _Jeez, don't I get a choice? _

"And if I don't like steak?" I hiss.

He sighs. "Don't start, Catherine."

"I'm not a child, Vincent."

"Well, stop acting like one." he snaps. _Are you kidding me?! _It's as if he's slapped me across the face. I blink at him. _So this is how it will be—_an agitated, fraught conversation, albeit in a very romantic setting—_but certainly no__hearts and flowers__._

"I'm a child because I _don't_ like steak?" I mutter, trying to conceal my hurt feelings.

"No, but deliberately making me jealous makes you childish. Have you no regard for your friend's feelings, leading him on like that?" Vincent presses his lips together in a thin line and scowls as the waiter returns with the wine list. I blush. I hadn't thought of that. _Poor __Patrick__—I certainly don't want to encourage him_. Suddenly, I'm mortified. Vincent has a point; it was a thoughtless thing to do and yes, childish. He glances at the wine list.

"Would you like to choose the wine?" he asks, raising his eyebrows at me expectantly, arrogance personified. He knows I know nothing about wine. "You choose," I answer, sullen but chastened.

"Two glasses of the Barossa Valley Shiraz, please." he murmurs to the waiter.

"Er... we only sell that wine by the bottle, sir."

"A bottle then," Vincent snaps.

"Sir." He retreats, subdued, and I don't blame him. I frown at Fifty._ What's eating him?_ Oh, me probably, and somewhere in the depths of my psyche, my inner goddess rises sleepily, stretches, and smiles. She's been asleep for a while.

"You're very grumpy." I sigh. He gazes at me impassively. "I wonder why that is?"

"Well, it's good to set the right tone for an _intimate _and _honest_ discussion about the future, wouldn't you agree?" I smile at him sweetly. His mouth presses into a hard line, but then, almost reluctantly, his lips lift, and I know he's trying to stifle his smile. "I'm sorry," he says.

"Apology accepted, and I'm pleased to inform you I haven't decided to become a vegetarian since we last ate." I smirk.

"Since that was the last time you ate, I think that's a moot point."

"There's that word again, moot."

"Moot," he mouths and his eyes soften with humor. He runs his hand through his hair, and he's serious again. "Catherine, the last time we spoke, you left me. I'm a little nervous. I've told you I want you back, and you've said... nothing." His gaze is intense and expectant while his candor is totally disarming. _What the hell do I say to this?_

I take a deep breath as I blink back tears. "Vincent, I-I... I've missed you... really missed you. The past few days have been... difficult." I swallow, and a lump in my throat swells as I recall my desperate anguish since I left him. This last week has been the worst in my life, the pain almost indescribable. Nothing has come close. But reality hits home, winding me. "Nothing's changed. I still can't be what you want me to be." I squeeze the words out past the lump in my throat.

"You are _exactly_ what I want you to be," he says, his soft voice emphatic.

"No, Vincent, I'm not." I retort instantly.

"You're upset because of what happened last time. I behaved stupidly, I know, and you... So did you. Why didn't you safe word, Catherine?" His tone changes, becoming accusatory.

_What?! Who__a! C__hange of direction..._ I flush, blinking at him.

"Answer me." he demands softly.

"I don't know. I was overwhelmed, really. I was trying to be what _you_ wanted me to be, trying to deal with the pain... and it went out of my mind. You know... I forgot," I whisper, ashamed, and I shrug apologetically. _Jeez, perhaps we could have avoided all this heartache._

"You forgot?!" he gasps with horror, grabbing the sides of the table and glaring at me. I wither under his stare. _Shit! He's furious again._ My inner goddess glares at me, too._ See, you brought all this on yourself!_

"How can I trust you?" he says, his voice low. "Ever?"

The waiter arrives with our wine as we sit staring at each other, green eyes to brown. Both of us filled with unspoken recriminations, while the waiter removes the cork with an unnecessary flourish and pours a little wine into Vincent's glass. Automatically Vincent reaches out and takes a sip.

"That's fine." His voice is curt. Gingerly the waiter fills our glasses, placing the bottle on the table before beating a hasty retreat. Vincent has not taken his eyes off me the whole time. I'm the first to crack, breaking eye contact, picking up my glass and taking a large gulp. I barely taste it. "I'm sorry," I whisper, suddenly feeling stupid. I left because I thought we were incompatible, _but he's saying I could have stopped him?_

"Sorry for what?" he says alarmed.

"Not using the safe word." I whisper.

He closes his eyes, as if in relief. "We might have avoided all this suffering," he mutters.

"You look pretty fine to me." _More than fine, __actually__. You look like you._

"Appearances can be deceptive," he says quietly. "I'm anything but fine. I feel like the sun has set and not risen for five days, Catherine. I'm in perpetual night here."

I'm winded by his admission. _Oh my, like me._

"You said you'd never leave, yet the going gets tough and you're out the door." he murmurs.

"When did I say I'd never leave?" I snap, crossing my arms.

"In your sleep. I told you once already. It was the most comforting thing I'd heard in so long, Catherine. It made me relax."

My heart constricts and I reach for my wine with shaky hands.

"You said you _loved_ me," he whispers. "Is that_ now_ in the past tense?" His voice is low, laced with anxiety.

I sigh as tears prick my eyes. I look away from him to keep him from seeing me cry. "No, Vincent, it's not."

He gazes at me, and he looks so vulnerable as he exhales. "Good," he murmurs. And I'm shocked by his admission. _He's had a change of heart_. When I told him I loved him before, he was horrified. The waiter is back. Briskly he places our plates in front of us and scuttles away. _Holy hell! Food!_

"Eat," Vincent commands.

Deep down I know I'm hungry, but right now, my stomach is in knots. Sitting across from the only man I have ever loved and debating our uncertain future does not promote a healthy appetite. I look dubiously at my food.

"So help me God, Catherine, if you don't eat, I will take you across my knee here in this restaurant, and it will have nothing to do with my sexual gratification. Eat!" he snarls. _Jeez, keep your hair on, __Keller!_My subconscious stares at me over her half-moon specs. She is wholeheartedly in agreement with Fifty Shades.

"Okay, I'll eat. Stow your twitching palm."

He doesn't smile but continues to glare at me. Reluctantly, I lift my knife and fork and slice into my steak._ Oh, it's mouth-wateringly good._ I'm hungry, _really_ hungry. I chew and he visibly relaxes. We eat our dinner in silence. The music's changed. A soft-voiced woman sings in the background, her words echoing my thoughts. I glance up at Vincent. He's eating and watching me. Hunger, longing, anxiety, all combined in one hot look.

"Do you know who's singing?" I try for some normal conversation.

Vincent pauses and listens. "No... but she's good, whoever she is."

"I like her, too." I mutter as I take another bite of steak. He smiles his private enigmatic smile. _What's he planning? _"What?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "Eat up," he says mildly. I have eaten half the food on my plate. I can't eat any more. _How can I negotiate this? _"I can't manage any more. Have I eaten enough for you, _Sir_?"

He stares at me impassively, not answering, then glances at his watch.

"I really am full," I add, taking a sip of the delicious wine.

"We have to go shortly. Sam's here, and you have to be up for work in the morning." he whispers.

"So do you." I reply.

He sighs, taking another sip of wine. "I function on a lot less sleep than you do, Catherine. At least you've eaten something now."

"Aren't we going back via Charlie Tango?" I ask, confused.

"No, I wanted to have a drink, and I have now. Sam will pick us up. Besides, this way, I have you in the car all to myself for a few hours, at least. What can we do besides talk?" _Oh, that's his plan._

Vincent summons the waiter to ask for the check, then picks up his BlackBerry and makes a call. "We're at Le Picotin, South West Third Avenue." He hangs up. _Jeez, he's curt over the phone._

"You're very brusque with Sam. In fact, with most people." I say, tilting my head to one side.

"I just get to the point quickly, Catherine."

"You haven't got to the point yet this evening... nothing's changed, Vincent." I whisper.

"I have a proposition for you." he says.

"This all began with a proposition, Vincent."

"A very _different_ proposition, Miss Chandler."

The waiter returns, and Vincent hands over his credit card without checking the bill. He gazes at me speculatively while the waiter swipes his card. Vincent's phone buzzes once, and he peers at it. _He has a proposition? What now?_ A couple of scenarios run through my mind: kidnapping, working for him. _No, nothing makes sense. _Vincent finishes paying.

"Come on. Sam's outside waiting."

We stand and he takes my hand. "I don't want to lose you, Catherine." He kisses my knuckles tenderly, and the touch of his lips on my skin resonates throughout my body.

* * *

><p>Outside the Audi is waiting. Vincent opens my door, and climbing in, I sink into the plush leather. He heads to the driver's side, and Sam steps out of the car and they talk briefly. This isn't their usual protocol. I'm curious. <em>What are they talking about? <em>Moments later, they both climb in, and I glance at Vincent who's wearing his impassive face as he stares ahead. I allow myself a brief moment to examine his godlike profile: straight nose, sculptured full lips, hair falling deliciously over his forehead. _This divine man is surely not meant for me._

Soft music suddenly fills the rear of the car, an orchestral piece that I don't know, and Sam pulls into the light traffic, heading for the I-5 and Seattle.

Vincent shifts to face me. "As I was saying, Catherine, I have a proposition for you."

I glance nervously at Sam.

"Sam can't hear you," Vincent reassures me.

"How?" _WTF?!_

"Sam!" Vincent calls. Sam doesn't respond. He calls again, and still no response. Vincent leans over and taps his shoulder and Sam removes an ear bud I hadn't noticed before. "Yes, sir?"

"Thank you, Sam. It's okay. Resume your listening." Vincent murmurs.

"Sir."

Vincent turns to face me once more. "Happy now? He's listening to his iPod. Puccini. Forget he's here. I do it all the time."

"Did you deliberately ask him to do that?" I scoff.

"Yes."

_Oh..._ "Okay, your proposition?" I breathe. Vincent looks suddenly determined and businesslike. _Holy shit!_ _We're negotiating a deal!_ I listen attentively.

"Let me ask you something first... Do you want a regular vanilla relationship with no kinky fuckery at all?" he asks and I'm instantly stunned. My mouth drops open. "Kinky fuckery?" I squeak.

"Kinky fuckery." he mocks.

I blush. "I can't believe you just said that." I glance nervously at Sam.

"Well, I did. Answer me," he says calmly. I flush. My inner goddess is down on bended knees with her hands clasped in supplication begging me.

"I like your kinky fuckery," I whisper.

"That's what I thought. So what _don't_ you like?"

_Not being able to touch you. You enjoying my pain, the bite of the belt... _"The threat of cruel and unusual punishment." I mutter, gazing at him.

He narrows his eyes at me. "What does that mean?"

"Well, you have all those canes and whips and stuff in your playroom, and they frighten the living daylights out of me. I don't want you using them on me." I say.

"Okay, so no whips or canes—or belts, for that matter," he says sardonically. I gaze at him puzzled. "Are you attempting to redefine the hard limits?" I ask.

"Not as such, I'm just trying to understand you, get a clearer picture of what you _do_ and _don't_ like."

"Fundamentally, Vincent, it's your joy in inflicting pain on me that's difficult for me to handle. And the idea that you'll do it because I have crossed some arbitrary line."

"But it's not arbitrary; the rules are written down." he snaps.

"I don't want a set of rules." I snap back.

"None at all?"

"None." I shake my head, but my heart is in my mouth. _Where is he going with this?_

"But you don't mind if I spank you?" he asks.

_Oh shit! _"Spank me with what?"

"This." and he holds up his hand. I squirm uncomfortably. "No, not really. Especially with those silver ball thingy's..." Thank heavens it's dark, my face is flaming and my voice trails off as I recall that night. _Oh yeah...__ I'd do that again._

He smirks at me. "Yeah, that was fun."

"_More_ than fun," I mutter.

"So you can deal with some pain." he asks. I shrug. "Yes, I suppose." _Oh, where is he going with this?_ My anxiety level has shot up several magnitudes on the Richter scale. He strokes his chin, deep in thought. "Catherine, I want to start again. Do the vanilla thing and then maybe, once you trust me again, and I can trust you to be honest and to communicate with me, we could move on and do some of the stuff I like to do."

I stare at him, stunned, with no thoughts in my head at all—like a computer crash. He gazes at me anxiously, but I can't see him clearly, as we're shrouded in the Oregon darkness. It occurs to me, finally, this is it. He wants the light, _but can __I ask him to do this for me?_ _And don't I like the dark? _Some dark, sometimes. Memories of the Nine Inch Nails night drift invitingly through my mind again. "But what about punishments?" I whisper.

"No punishments." He shakes his head. "None."

"And the rules?"

"No rules."

"None at all? Vincent, you have needs."

"I need_ you_ more, Catherine. These last few days have been purgatory. All my instincts tell me to let you go, tell me I don't deserve you..." he pauses as he swallows hard. "Those photos Patrick took... I can see how he sees you. You look so untroubled and beautiful, not that you're not beautiful now, but here you sit, and I can see your pain... It's hard knowing that I'm the one who has caused your pain. But I'm a selfish man, Cat. I've wanted you since you fell into my office. You're exquisite, honest, warm, strong, witty, beguilingly innocent; the list is endless. I'm in awe of you... I want you, and the thought of anyone else having you is like a knife twisting in my dark soul."

My mouth goes dry. _Holy shit! _My subconscious nods with satisfaction. If that isn't a declaration of love, I don't know what is. And the words tumble out of me—a dam breached. "Vincent, why do you think you have a dark soul? I would never say that. Sad maybe, but you're a good man. I can see the good in you... you're generous, kind, and you've never lied to me. And I haven't tried very hard. Last Saturday was such a shock to my system. It was my wake-up call, sort of speak. I realized that you'd been easy on me and that I couldn't be the person you _wanted_ me to be. Then, after I left, it dawned on me that the physical pain you inflicted wasn't as bad as the pain of losing you. I do want to please you, Vincent, but it's hard."

"You do please me, Catherine. All the time," he whispers. "How often do I have to tell you that?"

"I never know what you're thinking, Vincent. Sometimes you're so closed off... like an island state. You intimidate me. That's why I keep quiet. I don't know which way your mood is going to go. It swings from north to south and back again in a nanosecond and it's confusing. And then you won't let me touch you, and I want to so badly, to show you how much I care about you... to show you how much I _love_ you."

He blinks at me in the darkness, warily I think, and I can resist him no longer. I unbuckle my seat belt and scramble into his lap, taking him by surprise, and take his head in my hands. "I love you, Vincent Keller. And you're prepared to do all of this for me... I'm the one who's undeserving, and I'm so sorry that I can't do all those things for you. Maybe with time... I don't know, we'll see... but yes, I accept your proposition. Tell me where to sign?"

He snakes his arms around me and crushes me to him. "Oh, Catherine," he breathes as he buries his nose in my hair. We sit, our arms wrapped around each other, listening to the music—a soothing piano piece—mirroring the emotions in the car, the sweet tranquil calm after the storm. I snuggle into his arms, resting my head in the crook of his neck and he gently strokes my back.

"Touching is a hard limit for me, Catherine," he whispers.

"I know. I wish I understood why." I whisper.

After a while, he sighs, and in a soft voice he says, "I had a horrific childhood. One of the crack whore's pimps, he..." His voice trails off, and his body tenses as he recalls some unimaginable horror. "I can remember that," he whispers, shuddering. Abruptly, my heart constricts as I remember the burn scars marring his skin. _Oh, __Vincent_. I tighten my arms around his neck. "Was she abusive? Your mother?" My voice is low and soft with un-shed tears.

"Not that I remember. She was neglectful and she didn't protect me from her pimp." His voice hints pure sadness. Suddenly, he snorts. "I think it was _me_ who looked after _her_. When she finally killed herself, it took four days for someone to raise the alarm and find us... I remember all of that." he closes his eyes and swallows hard and I can't contain my gasp of horror. _Holy motherfuck!_ Bile rises in my throat. "That's pretty fucked up," I whisper.

"Fifty shades," he murmurs.

I turn my head and press my lips against his neck, seeking and offering solace as I imagine a small, dirty, brown-eyed boy lost and lonely beside the body of his dead mother. _Oh, __Vincent_... I breathe in his scent. He smells heavenly, my favorite fragrance in the entire world. He tightens his arms around me and kisses my hair, and I sit wrapped in his embrace as Sam speeds into the night.

* * *

><p>When I wake, we're driving through Seattle. "Hey," Vincent says softly.<p>

"Sorry," I murmur as I sit up, blinking and stretching. I'm still in his arms, on his lap.

"I could watch you sleep forever, Cat." he says softly.

"Did I say anything?" I ask with a smirk.

"No. We're nearly at your place."

_Oh? _"We're not going to yours?"

"No." he deadpans.

I sit up and gaze at him. "And why not?"

"Because you have work tomorrow."

"Oh." I pout. He smirks at me. "Why? Did you have something in mind?"

I flush. "Well, maybe."

He chuckles. "Catherine, I'm not going to touch you again, not until you beg me to."

"What?!" I gasp, shocked. _Did I hear him correctly?!_

"So that you'll start communicating with me. Next time we make love, you're going to have to tell me exactly what you want, and in fine detail." he smiles, planting a kiss on my shoulder.

"Oh." He shifts me off his lap as Sam pulls up outside my apartment. Vincent climbs out and holds the car door open for me. "I have something for you." He moves to the back of the car, opens the trunk, and pulls out a large gift-wrapped box. _What the hell is this?! _"Open it when you get inside." he adds.

"You're not coming in?" _I'm shocked!_

"No, Catherine."

"So when will I see you?" I ask a little disappointed.

"Tomorrow." he whispers.

I sigh as I remember my plans with Gabriel. "My boss wants me to go for a drink with him tomorrow." Vincent's face hardens. "Does he, now?" His voice is laced with latent menace and jealousy.

"It's just to celebrate my first week at SIP." I add quickly.

"Where?" he says, narrowing his eyes at me.

I shrug. "I don't know."

"I could pick you up from there."

"Okay... I'll e-mail or text you once I figure out where." I murmur.

"Good." he snaps. _Damn! He's such an ass when he's jealous... _

He walks me to the lobby door and waits while I dig my keys out of my purse. And as I unlock the door, he leans forward and cups my chin, tilting my head back. His mouth hovers over mine, and closing his eyes, he runs a trail of kisses from the corner of my eye to the corner of my mouth. A small moan escapes through my lips as my insides melt and unfurl.

"Until tomorrow," he breathes.

"Goodnight, Vincent." I whisper, and I hear the need in my voice. He smiles.

"In you go," he orders, and I walk through the lobby carrying my mysterious parcel. "Laters, baby," he calls, then turns and with his easy grace, heads back to the car.

* * *

><p>Once in the apartment, I open the gift box and find my MacBook Pro laptop, the BlackBerry, and another rectangular box. <em>What is this? <em>I unwrap the silver paper. Inside is a black, slim, leather case. Opening the case, I find an iPad. _Holy shit... an iPad!_ A white card is resting on the screen with a message written in Vincent's handwriting:

_Made you a playlist that says it all for me._

_I hope you like the songs._

_Vincent Keller _

_Holy cow!_ I have a Vincent Keller mix-tape in the guise of a high-end iPad. I shake my head in disapproval because of the expense, but deep down I love it. Gabe at the office has one, so I know how they work. I switch it on and gasp as the wallpaper image appears a small model glider. _Oh my..._ It's the Blanik L23 I gave him, mounted on a glass stand and sitting on what I think is Vincent's desk at his office. I gape at it.

_He built it!_ _He really did build it!_ I remember now he mentioned it in the note with the flowers. I'm reeling, and I know in that instant that he's put a great deal of thought into this gift. I slide the arrow at the bottom of the screen to unlock it and gasp again. The background photograph is of Vincent and me at my graduation in the marquee. It's the one that appeared in the Seattle Times. Vincent looks so handsome and I can't help my face-splitting grin as my inner goddess curls up hugging herself on her chaise lounge—_Yes, and he's mine!_

With a swipe of my finger, the icons shift, and several new ones appear on the next screen. A Kindle app, iBooks, Words—whatever that is_. Holy shit! The British Library?_ I touch the icon and a menu appears: **HISTORICAL COLLECTION**. Scrolling down, I select** NOVELS OF THE 18TH AND 19TH CENTURY**. Another menu. I tap on a title: **THE AMERICAN BY HENRY JAMES.** A new window opens, offering me a scanned copy of the book to read. _Holy crap—it's an early edition, published in 1879, and it's on my iPad!_ He's bought me the British Library at a touch of a button.

I exit quickly, knowing that I could be lost in this app for an eternity. I notice a 'good food' app that makes me roll my eyes and smile at the same time, a news app, a weather app, but his note mentioned music. I go back to the main screen, hit the iPod icon and a playlist appears. I scroll through the songs, and the list makes me smile. **Nine Inch Nails**—I'm not going to forget that in a hurry. _I heard it twice, after all, while he flogged and fucked me._

**Witchcraft—**My grin gets wider. _We __danc__ed__a__round the great room __to this_. **The Bach Marcello** piece—_oh no, that's way too sad for my mood right now. Hmm..._ **Jeff Buckley**—_yeah, I've heard of him._ **Snow Patrol**—_my favorite band_—and a song called **Principles of Lust** **by Enigma**. _How __Vincent?_ I smirk. Another called **Possession**….. _oh__ yes, very Fifty Shades_. And a few more I have never heard. Selecting a song that catches my eye, I press play. It's called **Try by Nellie Furtado**. She starts to sing, and her voice is a silken scarf wrapping around me, enveloping me. I lie down on my bed. _Does this mean __Vincent__'s going to try? Try this new relationship?_ I drink in the lyrics, staring at the ceiling, trying to understand his turn-around. _He missed me. I missed him. He must have some feelings for me. He must! This iPad, these songs, these apps—he cares. He really cares! _My heart swells with hope.

The song ends and tears spring to my eyes. I quickly scroll to another—**The Scientist by Coldplay**—one of Tess' favorite bands. I know the track, but I've never really listened to the lyrics before. I close my eyes and let the words wash over and through me. My tears start to flow. I can't stem them. _If this isn't an apology, __what is it__? Oh, __Vincent!_

_Or is this __an invitation?_ _Will he answer my questions?_ _Am I reading too much into this?_ I'm probably reading too much into this. My subconscious nods at me, trying to hide her pity. I dash my tears away. _I have to e-mail him to thank him. _I leap off my bed to fetch the mean machine. **Coldplay** continues as I sit cross-legged on my bed. The Mac powers up and I log in.

* * *

><p><strong>From<strong>: Catherine Chandler

**Subject**: iPad

**Date**: June 9, 2011 23:56

**To**: Vincent Keller

You've made me cry again.

I love the iPad. I love the songs. I love the British Library App. I love YOU.

Thank you. Goodnight.

Cat xx

* * *

><p><strong>From<strong>: Vincent Keller

**Subjec**t: iPad

**Date**: June 10, 2011 00:03

**To**: Catherine Chandler

I'm glad you like it. I bought one for myself.

Now, if I were there, I would kiss away your tears. But I'm not—so go to sleep.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p>His response makes me smile, still so bossy, still so Vincent. <em>Will that change, too?<em> And I realize in that moment that I hope not. I like him like this—_commanding_—as long as I can stand up to him without fear of punishment.

* * *

><p><strong>From<strong>: Catherine Chandler

**Subject**: Mr. Grumpy

**Date**: June 10, 2011 00:07

**To**: Vincent Keller

You sound your usual bossy and possibly tense, possibly grumpy self, Mr. Keller.

I know something that could ease that. But then again, you're not here... You wouldn't let me stay with you, and you expect me to beg...

Dream on, _Sir._

Cat xx

PS: I also note that you included the Stalker's Anthem, "Every Breath You Take." I do enjoy your sense of humor, but does Dr. Marks know?

* * *

><p><strong>From<strong>: Vincent Keller

**Subject**: Zen-Like Calm

**Date**: June 10, 2011 00.10

**To**: Catherine Chandler

My Dearest Miss Chandler,

Spanking occurs in vanilla relationships, too, you know. Usually consensually and in a sexual context... but I'm more than happy to make an exception.

You'll be relieved to know that Dr. Marks also enjoys my sense of humor.

Now, please go to sleep as you won't get much tomorrow.

Incidentally, you _will _beg, trust me. And I look forward to it.

Vincent Keller

Tense CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject**: Goodnight, Sweet Dreams

**Date: **June 10, 2011 00:12

**To: **Vincent Keller

Well, since you asked so nicely—don't get me wrong, I like your delicious threat—I shall curl up with the iPad that you have so kindly given me and fall asleep browsing in the British Library, listening to the music that says it for you.

Catherine xxx

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** One More Request...

**Date:** June 10, 2011 00:15

**To:** Catherine Chandler

Dream of me.

xxx

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><em>Dream of you, Vincent Keller? Always!<em>

I change quickly into my pajamas, brush my teeth, and slip into bed. Putting my ear buds in, I pull the flattened Charlie Tango balloon from underneath my pillow and hug it to me. I'm brimming with joy, and a stupid widemouthed grin on my face. What a difference a day can make. _How am I eve__r going to sleep? _**José Gonzalez** starts to sing a soothing melody with a hypnotic guitar riff, and I drift slowly into sleep, marveling how the world has righted itself in only one evening and I wonder idly if I should make a playlist for Vincent.

* * *

><p><em><strong>**Okay, I had to post one more lol, I just can't resist and besides, I already had it written up lol. Goodnight and sleep well my darling! XOXO!**<strong>_


	29. Chapter 29

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><strong>*WARNING: The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, graphic sexual content, and DOMSUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Extra: I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: In this story, Alex Salter will be a brunette. Just thought I would let you all know lol.)**

_Italics represent Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 29-<strong>_

The one good thing about being car-less is that on the bus on my way to work, I can plug my headphones into my iPad while it's safely in my purse and listen to all the wonderful tunes Vincent has given me.

By the time I arrive at the office, I have the most ludicrous grin on my face. Gabe glances up at me and does a double take.

"Good morning, Catherine. You look... radiant." His remark flusters me. _How inappropriate!_

"I slept well, thank you, Gabriel. Good morning."

His brow crinkles. "Can you read these for me and have reports on them by lunchtime, please?" He hands me four manuscripts. At my horrified expression, he adds, "Just first chapters."

"Sure," I smile with relief, and he gives me a broad smile in return. I switch on the computer to start work while finishing my latte and eating a banana. There's an e-mail from Vincent.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject: **So Help Me...

**Date: **June 10, 2011 08:05

**To: **Catherine Chandler

I do hope you've had breakfast.

I missed you last night.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Catherine Chandler

**Subject: **Old Books...

**Date:** June 10, 2011 08:33

**To:** Vincent Keller

I'm eating a banana as I type. I have not had breakfast for several days, so it is a step forward. I love the British Library App—I started re-reading Robinson Crusoe... and of course, I love you.

Now leave me alone. I'm trying to work.

Catherine Chandler

Assistant to Gabriel Lowan, Commissioning Editor, SIP

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Is That All You've Eaten?

**Date:** June 10, 2011 08:36

**To:** Catherine Chandler

You can do better than that. You're going to need your energy for begging.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Pest!

**Date:** June 10, 2011 08:39

**To:** Christian Grey

Mr. Keller,

I'm trying to work for a living... And it's _you_ that will be begging.

Catherine Chandler

Assistant to Gabriel Lowan, Commissioning Editor, SIP

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Bring it On, Baby!

**Date:** June 10, 2011 08:36

**To:** Catherine Chandler

Why Miss Chandler, I do love a challenge...

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p>I sit grinning at the screen like an idiot. But I need to read these chapters for Gabe and write reports on all of them. Placing the manuscripts on my desk, I begin.<p>

* * *

><p>At lunchtime I head to the deli for a pastrami sandwich and listen to the playlist on my iPad. First up there's <strong>Nitin Sawhney<strong>, some world music called **Homelands**—_it's good_. Mr. Keller has an electric taste in music. I wander back, listening to a classical piece, **Fantasia **on a **Theme of Thomas Tallis by Vaughn Williams.** _Oh, Fifty has a sense of humor—_and I love him for it. _Will this stupid grin ever leave my face?_

The afternoon drags and I decide, in an unguarded moment, to e-mail Vincent.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject: **Bored...

**Date:** June 10, 2011 16:05

**To:** Vincent Keller

Twiddling my thumbs.

How are you? What are you doing?

Catherine Chandler

Assistant to Gabriel Lowan, Commissioning Editor, SIP

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Vincent Keller

**Subject: **Your thumbs

**Date:** June 10, 2011 16:15

**To:** Catherine Chandler

You should have come to work for me. You wouldn't be twiddling your thumbs. I'm sure I could put them to better use. In fact, I can think of a number of options...

I'm doing the usual, humdrum mergers and acquisitions. It's all very dry.

Your e-mails at SIP are monitored.

Vincent Keller

Distracted CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><em>Oh shit! I had no idea. How the hell does he know?<em> I scowl at the screen and quickly check the e-mails we've sent, deleting them as I do.

* * *

><p>Promptly at five thirty, Gabe is at my desk. It's Dress-down Friday so he's wearing jeans and a black shirt. He looks very casual.<p>

"Drink, Catherine? We usually like to go for a quick one at the bar across the street." he smiles.

"We?" I ask, hopeful.

"Yeah, most of us go together... you coming?" he asks.

For some unknown reason, which I don't want to examine too closely, relief floods through me. "I'd love to. What's the bar called?"

"50s."

"You're kidding." _Don't laugh... Don't laugh!_

He looks at me oddly. "No. Some significance for you?"

"No, sorry, Gabe. I'll join you over there in a moment."

"What would you like to drink?" he asks.

"A beer please."

"Cool." and he takes off. _Phew!_

I make my way to the powder room and e-mail Vincent from the BlackBerry.

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** You'll Fit Right In!

**Date:** June 10, 2011 17:36

**To:** Vincent Keller

We're going to a bar called _Fifty's._

The rich seam of humor that I could mine from this is endless.

I look forward to seeing you there, Mr. Keller.

Cat x

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject: **Hazards

**Date:** June 10, 2011 17:38

**To: **Catherine Chandler

Mining is a very, _very_ dangerous occupation.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Hazards?

**Date:** June 10, 2011 17:40

**To:** Vincent Keller

And your point is?

* * *

><p><strong>From: <strong>Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Merely...

**Date:** June 10, 2011 17:42

**To: **Catherine Chandler

Making an observation, Miss Chandler.

I'll see you shortly.

Sooners rather than laters, baby.

Vincent Keller

CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p>I check myself in the mirror. What a difference a day can make. I have more color in my cheeks, and my eyes are shining. It's the Vincent Keller effect. A little e-mail sparring with him will do that to a girl. I grin at the mirror and straighten my pale blue shirt—the one Sam bought me. I'm wearing my favorite jeans today, too. Most of the women in the office wear either jeans or floaty skirts. I'll need to invest in a floaty skirt or two. Perhaps I'll do that this weekend and bank the check Vincent gave me for Wanda, my Beetle.<p>

* * *

><p>As I head out of the building, I hear my name called.<p>

"Miss Chandler?"

I turn expectantly, and an ashen young woman approaches me cautiously. She looks like a ghost—so pale and strangely blank.

"Miss Catherine Chandler?" she repeats, and her features stay static even though she's speaking.

"Yes?" I say shakily. She stops, staring at me from about three feet away on the sidewalk, and I stare back, immobilized. _Who is she? What does she want? _"Can I help you?" I ask. _How does she know my name?_

"No... I just wanted to look at you." Her voice is eerily soft. Like me, she has dark hair that starkly contrasts with her fair skin. Her eyes are blue, like the sky, but flat. There's no life in them at all. Her beautiful face is pale, and etched with sorrow.

"Sorry, you have me at a disadvantage." I say politely, trying to ignore the warning tingle up my spine. On closer inspection, she looks odd, disheveled and uncared for. Her clothes are two sizes too big, including her designer trench coat.

She laughs, a strange, discordant sound that only feeds my anxiety. "What do _you_ have that _I _don't?" she asks sadly.

My anxiety turns into fear. "I'm sorry... who are you?" I ask, confused, scared, and anxious.

"Me? I'm nobody." She lifts her arm to drag her hand through her shoulder length hair, and as she does, the sleeve of her trench coat rides up, revealing a soiled bandage around her wrist.

_Holy fuck!_

"Good day, Miss Chandler." Turning, she walks up the street as I stand rooted to the spot. I watch as her slight frame disappears from view, lost amongst the workers pouring out of their various offices.

_What was that about?_

Confused, I cross the street to the bar, trying to assimilate what has just happened, while my subconscious rears her ugly head and hisses at me, _She has something to do with __Vincent__._

* * *

><p>Fifty's is a cavernous, impersonal bar with baseball pennants and posters hanging on the wall. Gabe is at the bar with Tyler, Courtney, the other commissioning editor, two guys from finance, and Claire from reception. She's wearing her trademark silver hooped earrings.<p>

"Hey, Cat!" Gabe hands me a bottle of Bud.

"Cheers... thank you," I murmur, still shaken by my encounter with Ghost Girl.

"Cheers." We clink bottles, and he continues his conversation with Tyler. Claire smiles sweetly at me. "So, how has your first week been?" she asks.

"Good, thank you. Everyone seems very friendly." I smile.

"You seem much happier today." she smiles back.

I flush. "It's Friday," I mutter quickly. "So... have you any plans this weekend?"

My patented distraction technique works and I'm saved. Claire turns out to be one of seven kids, and she's going to a big family get-together in Tacoma. She becomes quite animated, and I realize I haven't spoken to any women my own age since Tess left for Barbados.

Absently I wonder how Tess is... and JT. I must remember to ask Vincent if he's heard from him. Oh, and Tim, her brother, will be back next Tuesday, and he'll be staying in our apartment. I can't imagine Vincent is going to be happy about that. My earlier encounter with strange Ghost Girl slips further from my mind.

During my conversation with Claire, Tyler hands me another beer. "Thanks," I smile at her.

Claire is very easy to talk to. She likes to talk. And before I know it, I'm on my third beer, courtesy of one of the guys from finance.

When Tyler and Courtney leave, Gabe joins Claire and me. _Where is __Vincent__?_ One of the finance guys engages Claire in conversation.

"Cat, do you think you made the right decision coming here?" Gabe's voice is soft, and he's standing a bit too close. But I've noticed that he has a tendency to do this with everyone, even at the office. My subconscious narrows her eyes. _You're __reading __too much into this_, she admonishes me.

"I've enjoyed myself this week, thank you, Gabe. Yes, I think I made the right decision."

"You're a very bright girl, Catherine. You'll go far."

I blush. "Thank you," I mutter, because I don't know what else to say.

"Do you live far?" he asks.

"The Pike Market District."

"Not far from me." Smiling, he moves even closer and leans against the bar, effectively trapping me. "Do you have any plans this weekend?" he adds. His proximity is highly uncomfortable. _Vincent where the hell are you?!_

"Well... um—"

I feel him before I see him. It's as if my whole body is highly attuned to his presence. It relaxes and ignites at the same time; a weird, internal duality, and I sense that strange pulsing electricity. Vincent drapes his arm around my shoulder in a seemingly casual display of affection, but I know differently. He's staking a claim, and on this occasion, it's very welcome. Softly he kisses my hair.

"Hey, baby," he murmurs.

I can't help but feel relieved, safe, and excited with his arm around me. He draws me to his side, and I glance up at him while he stares at Gabe, his expression impassive. Turning his attention to me, he gives me a brief crooked smile, followed by a swift kiss. He's wearing his navy pinstriped jacket over jeans and an open white shirt. He looks edible.

Gabe shuffles back uncomfortably.

"Gabe, this is Vincent." I mumble apologetically. _Why am I apologizing?_ "Vincent, Gabe."

"I'm the boyfriend," Vincent says with a small, cool smile that doesn't reach his eyes as he shakes Gabe's hand. I glance up at Gabe who is mentally assessing the fine specimen of manhood in front of him. "I'm the boss." Gabe replies arrogantly. "Catherine did mention an _ex_-boyfriend."

_Oh, shit... You don't want to play this game with Fifty!_

"Well, I'm no longer her ex," Vincent replies calmly. "Come on, babe, time to go."

"Please, stay and join us for a drink," Gabe says smoothly. I don't think that's a good idea. _Why is this so uncomfortable?_ I glance at Claire, who is, of course staring, open-mouthed and with frankly carnal appreciation at Vincent. _When will I __stop caring about the effect he has on other women?_

"We have plans," Vincent replies with his enigmatic smile. _We do?_ And a frisson of anticipation runs through my body. "Another time, perhaps." he adds. "Come on." he says to me as he takes my hand.

"See you Monday." I smile at Gabe, Claire, and the guys from finance, trying hard to ignore Gabe's less-than-pleased expression, and follow Vincent out of the door.

* * *

><p>Sam is at the wheel of the Audi waiting at the curb.<p>

"Why did that feel like a pissing contest?" I ask Vincent as he opens the car door for me.

"Because it was," he murmurs and gives me his enigmatic smile then shuts my door.

"Hello, Sam," I say and our eyes meet in the review mirror.

"Miss Chandler," Sam acknowledges with a genial smile.

Vincent slides in beside me, clasps my hand, and gently kisses my knuckles. "Hi," he says softly.

My cheeks turn pink, knowing that Sam can hear us, grateful that he can't see the scorching, panty-combusting look that Vincent is giving me. It takes all my self-restraint not to leap on him right here, in the back seat of the car._Oh, the back __s__eat of the car... hmm._ My inner goddess strokes her chin gently in quiet contemplation.

"Hi," I breathe, my mouth suddenly dry.

"What would you like to do this evening?" he asks.

"I thought you said we had plans."

"Oh, I know what _I'd_ like to do, Catherine, but I'm asking _you_ what _you_ want to do."

I beam at him.

"I see," he says with a wickedly salacious grin. "So... begging it is, then. Do you want to beg at my place or yours?" He tilts his head to one side and smiles his oh-so-sexy smile at me.

"I think you're being very presumptuous, Mr. Keller, but by way of a change, we could go to my apartment." I bite my lip deliberately, and his expression darkens.

"Sam, Miss Chandler's, please." he says to Sam without taking his eyes off me. "Sir," Sam acknowledges and he heads off into the traffic.

"So how has your day been?" he asks.

"Good. Yours?"

"Good, thank you."

His ridiculously broad grin reflects mine, and he kisses my hand again. "You look lovely," he says.

"As do you." I reply.

"Your boss, Gabriel Lowan, is he good at his job?" he asks.

_Whoa! That's a sudden change in direction!_ I frown. "Why? This isn't about your pissing contest?"

Vincent smirks. "That man wants into your panties, Catherine," he says dryly.

I go crimson as my mouth drops open, and I glance nervously at Sam. My subconscious inhales sharply, shocked. "Well, he can want all he likes... why are we even having this conversation? You know I have _no_ interest in him, whatsoever. He's just my boss."

"That's the point, Cat. He wants what's mine. I need to know if he's good at his job."

I shrug. "I think so." _Where is he going with this?_

"Well, he'd better leave you alone, or he'll find himself on his ass on the sidewalk." he murmurs.

"Oh, Vincent, what are you talking about? He hasn't done anything wrong." _Yet... He just stands too close._

"He makes one move, you tell me. It's called gross moral turpitude—or sexual harassment." he growls.

_Oh, for the love of God, Vincent! _"It was just a drink after work." I hiss.

"I mean it. One move and he's out." he snaps.

"You don't have that kind of power." _Honestly!_ And before I roll my eyes at him, the realization hits me with the force of a speeding freight truck. "You don't, do you, Vincent?"

Vincent gives me his enigmatic smile.

"You're buying the company?" I whisper in horror. His smile slips in response to the panic in my voice. "Not exactly," he says.

"You've_ bought_ it? SIP? Already?!" I snap.

He blinks at me, warily. "Possibly."

"You _have_ or you _haven't_?" I hiss.

"Have."

_What the hell?!_ "Why?!" I gasp, appalled. _Oh, this is just too much._

"Because I can, Catherine. I need you safe."

"But you said you wouldn't interfere in my career!" I shout at him. _Boy, I'm pissed!_

"And I won't." he snarls.

I snatch my hand out of his. "Vincent..." Words fail me.

"Are you mad at me?" he whispers.

"Yes! Of course I'm mad at you." I seethe. "I mean, what kind of responsible business executive makes decisions based on who they are currently fucking?" I blanch and glance nervously once more at Sam who is stoically ignoring us.

_Shit! What a time to have a brain-to-mouth filter malfunction._ _Catherine__! _My subconscious glares at me.

Vincent opens his mouth then closes it again and scowls at me. I glare at him. The atmosphere in the car plunges from warm with sweet reunion to frigid with unspoken words and potential recriminations as we glower at each other. Fortunately, our uncomfortable car journey doesn't last long, and Sam pulls up outside my apartment.

* * *

><p>I scramble out of the car quickly, not waiting for anyone to open the door. I hear Vincent mutter to Sam, "I think you'd better wait here."<p>

I sense him standing close behind me as I struggle to find the front door keys in my purse.

"Catherine." he says calmly as if I'm some cornered wild animal. I sigh and turn to face him. I'm so pissed off at him, my anger is palpable—a dark entity threatening to choke me.

"First of all, I haven't fucked you for a while—a long while, it feels—and secondly, I wanted to get into publishing. Of the four companies in Seattle, SIP is the most profitable, but it's on the cusp and it's going to stagnate—it needs to branch out."

I stare frigidly at him. His eyes are so intense, threatening even, but sexy as hell. I could get lost in their steely depths. "So you're my boss now," I snap.

"Technically, I'm your boss's boss's boss."

"And, technically, it's gross moral turpitude; the fact that I'm _fucking_ my boss's boss's boss."

"At the moment, you're arguing with him." Vincent scowls.

"Well that's because he's such an arse," I hiss.

Vincent steps back in stunned surprise. _Oh shit! Have I gone too far? _"Anarse?" he murmurs as his expression changes to one of amusement.

_D__am__n__ it! I__'__m mad at you, do not make me laugh! _"Yes." I struggle to maintain my look of moral outrage.

"An _arse_?" Vincent says again. This time his lips twitch with a repressed smile.

"Don't make me laugh when I'm pissed off at you!" I shout. And he smiles, a dazzling, full-toothed, all-American-boy smile, and I can't help it. I'm grinning and laughing, too. _How could I not be affected by the joy I see in his smile?_

"Just because I have a stupid damn grin on my face doesn't mean I'm not still mad as hell at you," I mutter breathlessly, trying to suppress my high-school-cheerleader giggling. Though I was never cheerleader, the bitter thought crosses my mind.

He leans in, and I think he's going to kiss me but he doesn't. He nuzzles my hair and inhales deeply. "As ever, Miss Chandler, you are unexpected." He leans back and gazes at me, his eyes dancing with humor. "So are you going to invite me in, or am I to be sent packing for exercising my democratic right as an American citizen, entrepreneur, and consumer to purchase whatever I damn well please?" he adds.

"Have you spoken to Dr. Marks about this?" I smirk.

He laughs. "Are you going to let me in or not, Catherine?"

I try for a grudging look... biting my lip helps, but I'm smiling as I open the door. Vincent turns and waves to Sam, and the Audi pulls away.

* * *

><p>It's odd having Vincent Keller in the apartment. The place feels too small for him. I'm still mad at him—<em>his stalking knows no bounds<em>, and it dawns on me that this is how he knew about the e-mail being monitored at SIP. _He probably knows more about SIP than I do_. The thought is unsavory.

_What can I do?__ Why does he have this need to keep me safe?_ I'm a grown woman—_sort of_—for heaven's sake. _What can I do to reassure him?_

I gaze at his beautiful face as he paces the room like a caged predator, and my anger subsides. Seeing him here in my space when I thought we were over is heartwarming. _More than heartwarming, I love him_, and my heart swells with a nervous, heady elation. He glances around, assessing his surroundings. "Nice place," he says.

"Tess' parents bought it for her." I murmur. He nods distractedly, and his bold brown eyes come to rest on mine, staring at me.

"Er... would you like a drink?" I mutter, flushing with nerves.

"No, thank you, Catherine." His eyes darken.

_Oh crap! Why am I so nervous? _

"What would you like to do, Catherine?" he asks softly as he walks toward me, all feral and hot. "I know what_ I_ want to do," he adds in a low voice.

I back up until I bump against the concrete kitchen island. "I'm still mad at you."

"I know." He smiles a lopsided apologetic smile and I melt... _Well, maybe not __too__ mad._

"Would you like something to eat?" I ask.

He nods slowly. "Yes... You," he murmurs. Everything south of my waistline clenches. I'm seduced by his voice alone, but that look, that hungry I-want-you-now look... _oh my._

He's standing in front of me, not quite touching, staring down into my eyes and bathing me in the heat that's radiating off his body. I'm stiflingly hot, flustered, and my legs are like jelly as dark desire courses through me. _I want him_...

"Have you eaten today?" he murmurs.

"I had a sandwich at lunch," I whisper. I don't want to talk food.

He narrows his eyes. "You need to eat."

"I'm really not hungry right now... for food." I whisper as I swallow hard.

His eyes turn 3 shades darker. "What are you hungry for, Miss Chandler?"

"I think you know, Mr. Keller."

He leans down, and again I think he's going to kiss me, but he doesn't. "Do you want me to kiss you, Catherine?" he whispers softly in my ear.

"Yes," I breathe.

"Where?"

_What? _"Everywhere." I'm panting already. _This is hot!_

"You're going to have to be a bit more specific than that. I told you I'm not going to touch you until you beg me and tell me what to do." he murmurs in his low, dark, sexy tone. Eyes matching his tone.

My inner goddess is writhing on her chaise lounge. _I__'__m lost; he's not playing fair. _"Please," I whisper.

"Please what?"

"Touch me." I breathe.

"Where, baby?" He is so tantalizingly close, his scent intoxicating. I reach up, and immediately he steps back. "No, no," he chides, his eyes suddenly wide and alarmed.

"What?" _No... come back._

"No." He shakes his head.

"Not at all?" I can't keep the longing out of of my voice.

He looks at me uncertainly, and I'm emboldened by his hesitation. I step toward him, and he steps back, holding up his hands in defense, but smiling. "Catherine..." It's a warning, and he runs his hand through his hair, exasperated.

"Sometimes you don't mind," I observe plaintively. "Perhaps I should find a marker pen, and we could map out the _no-go_ areas." I add.

He raises an eyebrow. "That's not a bad idea. Where's your bedroom?"

I nod in the direction. _Is he deliberately changing the subject?_

"Have you been taking your pill?" he asks.

_Oops...__ My pill. _

His face falls at my expression.

"No," I squeak.

"I see," he says, and his lips press into a thin line. "Come on, let's have something to eat."

_Oh no! _"I thought we were going to bed! I want to go to bed with you." I whine.

"I know, babe." He smiles, and suddenly darting toward me, he grabs my wrists and pulls me into his arms so that his body is pressed against mine. "You need to eat and so do I," he murmurs, burning brown eyes gazing down at me. "Besides... anticipation is the key to seduction, and right now, I'm really into delayed gratification."

_Huh, since when? _"I'm seduced and I want my gratification now. I'll beg, please." I sound whiney. My inner goddess is beside herself. He smiles at me tenderly. "Eat. You're too slender." He kisses my forehead and releases me.

_This is a game, part of some evil plan._ I scowl at him. "I'm still mad that you bought SIP, and now I'm mad at you because you're making me wait." I pout.

"You are one angry little madam, aren't you? You'll feel better after a good meal." he smirks.

"I know what I'll feel better after." I hiss, crossing my arms.

He gasps. "Catherine Chandler, I'm shocked." His tone is gently mocking.

My eyes narrow on him as my arms stay crossed. "Stop teasing me, Vincent. You don't fight fair."

He stifles his grin by biting his lower lip. He looks simply adorable... playful Vincent toying with my libido. If only my seduction skills were better, I'd know what to do, but not being able to touch him does hamper me. My inner goddess narrows her eyes and looks thoughtful. _We __need to work __on this_.

As Vincent and I gaze at each other—me hot, bothered and yearning and him, relaxed and amused at my expense—I realize I have no food in the apartment. "I could cook something; except we'll have to go shopping."

"Shopping?" he says confused.

"For groceries." I murmur.

"You have no food here?" His expression hardens. I shake my head._ Crap, he looks quite angry. _"Let's go shopping, then," he says sternly as he turns on his heel and heads for the door, opening it wide for me.

* * *

><p>"When was the last time you were in a supermarket?" I ask, trying desperately not to laugh. Vincent looks out of place, but he follows me dutifully, holding a shopping basket.<p>

"I can't remember." he mutters.

"Does Mrs. Jones do all the shopping?" I ask.

"I think Sam helps her. I'm not sure."

"Are you happy with a stir-fry? It's quick."

"Stir-fry sounds good." Vincent grins, no doubt figuring out my ulterior motive for a speedy meal.

"Have they worked for you long?" I ask.

"Sam, four years, I think. Mrs. Jones about the same. Why didn't you have any food in the apartment?"

"You know why," I murmur, flushing.

"It was you who left me," he mutters disapprovingly.

"I know," I reply in a small voice, not wanting that reminder. We reach the checkout desk and silently stand in line. _If I hadn't left, would he have offered the vanilla alternative?_ I wonder idly.

"Do you have anything to drink?" He pulls me back to the present.

"Beer... I think."

"I'll get some wine."

_Oh dear_..._I'm not sure what sort of wine is available in Ernie's Supermarket._ Vincent re-emerges, empty handed, grimacing with a look of disgust.

"There's a good liquor store next door," I say quickly.

"I'll see what they have." he sighs.

_Maybe we should just go to his place, then we wouldn't have all this hassle._ I watch as he strolls purposefully and with easy grace out of the door. Two women coming in stop and stare. _Oh yes, eye my Fifty Shades,_ I think despondently. I want the memory of him in my bed, but he's playing hard to get. _Maybe I should, too._ My inner goddess nods frantically in agreement. And as I stand in line, we come up with a plan. _Hmm..._

* * *

><p>Vincent carries the grocery bags into the apartment. He's carried them as we've walked back to the apartment from the store. He looks odd. Not his usual CEO demeanor at all. "You look very... domestic." I mutter.<p>

"No one has ever accused me of that before," he says dryly and he places the bags on the kitchen island.

As I start to unload them, he takes out a bottle of white wine and searches for a corkscrew.

"This place is still new to me. I think the opener is in that drawer there." I point with my chin.

This feels so... _normal._ Two people, getting to know each other, having a meal. Yet it's so strange. The fear that I'd always felt in his presence has gone. We've already done so much together, I blush just thinking about it, and yet I hardly know him.

"What are you thinking about?" Vincent interrupts my reverie as he shrugs out of his pinstripe jacket and places it on the couch.

"How little I know you, really." I whisper.

He gazes at me and his eyes soften. "You know me better than anyone."

"I don't think that's true." Mrs. Robinson—_or I should say, Gabriella_—comes unbidden, and very unwelcome, into my mind.

"It is, Catherine. I'm a very, very private person." He hands me a glass of white wine. "Cheers," he says.

"Cheers," I respond, taking a sip as he puts the bottle in the fridge.

"Can I help you with that?" he asks.

"No it's fine... sit." I murmur.

"I'd like to help." His expression is sincere.

"You can chop the vegetables then." I smile.

"I don't cook," he says, regarding the knife I hand him with suspicion.

"I imagine you don't need to." I place a chopping board and some red peppers in front of him. He stares down at them in confusion.

"You've never chopped a vegetable?" I scoff.

"No." he says serious and I smirk at him.

"Are you smirking at me?" he asks, narrowing his eyes at me.

"It appears this is something that I _can _do and _you_ can't. Let's face it, Vincent, I think this is a first. Here, I'll show you." I brush up against him and he steps back. My inner goddess sits up and takes notice. "Like this." I slice the red pepper, careful to remove the seeds.

"Looks simple enough." he breathes.

"You shouldn't have any trouble with it," I mutter ironically. He gazes at me impassively for a moment then sets about his task as I continue to prepare the diced chicken. He starts to slice, carefully, and slowly. _Oh __Jeez__, we'll be here all day._

I wash my hands and hunt for the wok, the oil, and the other ingredients I need, repeatedly brushing against him—my hip, my arm, my back, my hands. Small, seemingly innocent touches. He stills each time I do. "I know what you're doing, Catherine," he murmurs darkly, still preparing the first pepper.

"I think it's called cooking," I say, fluttering my eyelashes innocently. Grabbing another knife, I join him at the chopping board, peeling and slicing garlic, shallots, and French beans, continually bumping against him.

"You're quite good at this," he mutters as he starts on his second red pepper.

"Chopping?" I bat my eyelashes at him, again in innocence. "Years of practice." I brush against him again, this time with my behind. He stills once more.

"I swear, if you do that again, Catherine, I'm going to fuck you on the kitchen floor."

_Oh, wow. It's working. _"You'll have to beg me first." I smirk.

"Is that a challenge?" he smiles back.

"Maybe." I whisper, biting my bottom lip on purpose, fully aware of what it does to him. He puts down his knife and saunters slowly over to me, his eyes burning. Leaning past me, he switches the gas off on the stove. The oil in the wok quiets almost immediately.

"I think we'll eat later," he says. "Put the chicken in the fridge." he adds.

This is not a sentence I had ever expected to hear from Vincent Keller, and only _he_ can make it sound hot, _really_ hot. I pick up the bowl of diced chicken, rather shakily place a plate on top of it, and stow it in the fridge. When I turn back, he's in front of me.

"So you're going to beg?" I whisper, bravely gazing into his darkening eyes.

"No, Catherine." He shakes his head. "No begging." His voice is soft, seductive. And we stand staring at each other, drinking each other in—the atmosphere charging between us, almost crackling, neither saying anything, just looking. I bite my lip as desire for this beautiful man seizes me with a vengeance, igniting my blood, shallowing my breath, pooling below my waist. I see my reactions reflected in his stance, and in his eyes.

In a beat, he grabs me by my hips and pulls me to him as my hands reach for his hair and his mouth claims mine. He pushes me against the fridge, and I hear the vague protesting rattle of bottles and jars from within as his tongue dances with mine. I moan into his mouth, and one of his hands moves into my hair, pulling my head back as we kiss savagely.

"What do you want, Catherine?" he breathes.

"You." I gasp.

"Where?"

"In my bed." I breathe.

He breaks free, bending slightly as he grabs the backs of my thighs, lifting me, my legs instinctively wrap around his hips, my arms around his neck, our eyes locked, and he carries me quickly and seemingly without any strain into my bedroom.

Setting me on my feet beside my bed, he leans down and switches on my bedside lamp. He glances quickly around the room and hastily closes the pale cream curtains.

"Now what?" he says softly.

"Make love to me." I whisper.

"How?"

_Jeez! He wasn't kidding!_

"You have got to tell me, Catherine."

_Holy crap_. "Undress me." I say, as I'm panting already. He smiles and hooks his index finger into my open shirt, pulling me toward him.

"Good girl," he murmurs, and without taking his blazing eyes off mine, he slowly starts to unbutton my shirt. Tentatively I put my hands on his arms to steady myself. He doesn't complain. _His arms are a safe area._ When he's finished with the buttons, he pulls my shirt over my shoulders, and I let go of him to let the shirt fall to the floor. He reaches down to the waistband of my jeans, pops the button, and pulls down the zipper.

"Tell me what you want, Catherine." His eyes smolder and his lips part as he takes quick shallow breaths.

"Kiss me from here to here," I whisper trailing my finger from the base of my ear, down my throat. He smoothes my hair out of the line of fire and bends, leaving sweet soft kisses along the path my finger took and then back again.

"My jeans and panties," I breathe, and he smiles against my throat before he drops to his knees in front of me. _Oh, I feel so powerful._

Hooking his thumbs into my jeans, he gently pulls them and my panties down my legs. I step out of my pumps and my clothes so that I'm left wearing only my bra.

He stops and looks up at me expectantly, but he doesn't get up. "What now, Catherine?"

"Kiss me," I whisper.

"Where?"

"You know where." I groan.

"Where?" he breathes.

_Oh, he's taking no prisoners!_ Embarrassed, I quickly point at the apex of my thighs, and he grins wickedly. I close my eyes, mortified, but at the same time, beyond aroused.

"Oh, with great pleasure, Miss Chandler," he chuckles. He kisses me and unleashes his tongue, his joy-inspiring expert tongue. I groan and fist my hands into his hair. He doesn't stop, his tongue circling my clitoris, driving me insane, on and on, round and round. _Ahhh..._ it's only been... _how long...?_ _Oh, __yes!_

"Vincent, please," I beg. I don't want to get off standing up. I don't think I have the strength to.

"Please what, Catherine?" his heated breath hits my sex and I tilt my head back as I groan.

"Make love to me." I breathe.

"I am," he murmurs, gently blowing against me.

"No... I want you inside me." I say as I look down, gazing at him.

"Are you sure?" he asks, looking up at me.

"Yes." I whisper.

He doesn't stop his sweet, exquisite torture. "Vincent... please." I moan in a gasp. He stands and gazes down at me, and his lips glisten with the evidence of my arousal.

_Holy cow!_

"Well?" he asks, licking his lips.

"Well what?" I pant, staring up at him in frantic need.

"I'm still dressed." he smirks. I gape at him in confusion._ Undress him? Yes, I can do this._ I reach for his shirt and he steps back. "Oh no," he admonishes.

_Shit, he means his jeans, __and this gives me an idea._ My inner goddess cheers loudly to the rafters, and I drop to my knees in front of him. Rather clumsily and with shaking fingers, I undo his waistband and fly, then yank down his jeans and boxers, and he springs free. _Wow!_

I peek up at him through my lashes, and he's gazing at me with... _what? Trepidation? Awe? Surprise?_

He steps out of his jeans and pulls off his socks, and I take hold of him in my hand and squeeze tightly, pushing my hand back like he's shown me before. He groans and tenses, and his breath hisses through clenched teeth. Very tentatively, I put him in my mouth and suck... hard. _Mmm, he tastes good_.

"Ahh. Catherine... gently." he groans. He cups my head tenderly, and I push him deeper into my mouth, pressing my lips together as tightly as I can, sheathing my teeth, and sucking hard.

"Fuck," he hisses.

_Oh, that's a good, inspiring, sexy sound._ I do it again, pulling his length deeper, swirling my tongue around the end._ Hmm... I feel like Aphrodite._

"Catherine, that's enough. No more." he pants.

I do it again—Beg, Keller, beg—and again.

"Catherine, you've made your point," he grunts through gritted teeth. "I don't want to get off in your mouth."

I do it once more, and he bends down, grasps me by my shoulders, hauls me to my feet, and swoops me into his arms and tosses me onto the bed. Dragging his shirt over his head, he then reaches down to his discarded jeans, and like a good boy scout, produces a foil packet. _He's panting, like me._

"Take your bra off," he orders.

I sit up and do as I'm told.

"Lie down. I want to look at you." he whispers.

I lie down, gazing up at him as he slowly rolls the condom on. _I want him so badly._ He stares down at me and licks his lips.

"You are a fine sight, Catherine Chandler." He bends over the bed and slowly crawls up and over me, kissing me as he goes. He kisses each of my breasts and teases my nipples in turn, while I groan and writhe beneath him, and he just doesn't stop.

_No... Stop. I want you. _"Vincent, please!"

"Please what?" he murmurs between my breasts.

"I want you inside me." I whisper.

"Do you now?" he says ever so sexy-yet-seductive-like.

"Yes! Please! I'm begging you!" _Yep, I totally caved._

Gazing at me, he pushes my legs apart with his and moves so that he's hovering above me. Without taking his eyes off mine, he sinks into me at a deliciously slow pace. I close my eyes, relishing the fullness, the exquisite feeling of his possession, instinctively tilting my pelvis up to meet him, to join with him, groaning loudly. He eases back and very slowly fills me again. My fingers find their way into his silken unruly hair, and he oh-so-slowly moves in and out again.

"Faster, Vincent, faster... I need you." I moan.

He gazes down at me in triumph and kisses me hard, then really starts to move._H__oly cow,_ a punishing, relentless... _oh fuc__k! _And I know it won't be long before my body gives into his lovemaking. He sets a pounding rhythm and I start to quicken, my legs tensing beneath him.

"Yes!" I scream as my hands grab onto the metal bars of my headboard, my head tilting back into the bed, and my eyes closed.

"Come on, baby," he gasps. "Give it to me." he moans, breathlessly. His words are my undoing, and I explode, magnificently, mind-numbingly, into a million pieces around him, and he follows calling out my name.

"Oh fuck, Catherine!" He collapses on top of me, his head buried in my neck.

As sanity returns, I open my eyes and gaze up into the face of the man I love. Vincent's expression is soft, and tender. He strokes his nose against mine, bearing his weight on his elbows, his hands clasping mine by the side of my head, webbing out fingers together. Sadly, I suspect that's so I don't touch him. He plants a gentle kiss on my lips as he eases himself out of me.

"I've missed this," he breathes.

"Me too," I whisper.

He takes hold of my chin and kisses me hard. A passionate, beseeching kiss, _asking for what?_ _I don't know._ But I honestly don't care as I have my Fifty Shades back. _He's mine! All mine!_ And as always, he leaves me deliciously sated, and even breathless.

* * *

><p><em><strong>**O.O Defibulator anyone? Lol! Anyways, I hope yal enjoyed that... Until next time.**<strong>_


	30. Chapter 30

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><strong>*WARNING: The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, graphic sexual content, and DOMSUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Extra: I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: We have a psycho in this story and your about to find out who. Enjoy! Oh, by the way... who likes Ice Cream? MWAHAHAHA!)**

_Italics represent Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 30-<strong>_

We kiss for what seems like hours as we bask in the aftershocks of our lovemaking. Vincent breaks the kiss, leaning his forehead against mine as he lays next to me in the bed. "Don't leave me again." he implores, looking deep into my eyes, his face serious.

"Okay." I whisper and I smile at him. His answering smile is dazzling; relief, elation, and boyish delight, all combined into one enchanting look that could melt the coldest of hearts. "Thank you for the iPad."

"You are most welcome, Catherine."

"What's your favorite song on there?" I ask.

"Now_ that _would be revealing." He grins. "Come cook me some food, wench. I'm famished," he adds, sitting up suddenly, dragging me with him so that I am sitting astride his lap.

"Wench?" I giggle.

"Wench. Food, now, please." he grins.

"Well... since you asked so nicely, _sire_, I'll get right to it." As I scramble out of bed, I dislodge my pillow, revealing the deflated helicopter balloon underneath. Vincent reaches for it and gazes up at me, puzzled.

"That's _my_ balloon." I say, feeling proprietary as I reach for my robe and wrap it round myself. _Oh, jeez... why did he have to find that?_

"In your bed?" he murmurs.

"Yes." I flush. "It's been keeping me company." I hiss sarcastically.

"Lucky Charlie Tango," he says, in surprise. _Yes, I'm sentimental __Keller__, because I love you._

"_My_ balloon," I say again and turn on my heels and head out into the kitchen, leaving him grinning from ear to ear.

* * *

><p>Vincent and I sit on Tess' persian rug, eating stir-fried chicken and noodles from white china bowls with chopsticks and sipping chilled White Pinot Grigio. Vincent's leaned back against the couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He's wearing his jeans and his shirt with his just-fucked hair, and that's all. The Buena Vista Social Club croons softly in the background from Vincent's iPod.<p>

"This is good," he says appreciatively as he digs into his food. I sit cross-legged beside him, eating greedily, beyond hungry, and admire his naked feet. "I usually do all the cooking. Tess isn't a great cook."

"Did your mother teach you?" he asks, taking another big bite.

"Not really," I scoff. "By the time I was interested in learning, my mom was living with Husband Number Three in Mansfield, Texas. And Thomas, well, he would've lived on toast and takeout if it wasn't for me."

Vincent gazes down at me. "You didn't stay in Texas with your mom?"

"No. Steve, her husband at the time and I, we didn't get along. And I missed Thomas. Her marriage to Steve didn't last long. She came to her senses, I think. She never talks about him." I add quietly. I think that's a dark part of her life, which we've never discussed.

"So you came back to Washington to live with your stepfather?"

"Yes." I whisper.

"Sounds like you looked after him." he says softly.

"I suppose so." I shrug.

"You're used to taking care of people." The edge in his voice attracts my attention, and I glance up at him. "What is it?" I ask, startled by his wary expression.

"It's just, um... I want to take care of you." His luminous eyes glow with some unnamed emotion.

My heart rate spikes. "I've noticed." I whisper. "You just go about it in a strange way."

His brow creases. "It's the only way I know how." he says quietly.

"I'm still mad at you for buying SIP." I change the subject suddenly, taking another bite of the noodles.

He smiles. "I know, but you being mad baby, wouldn't stop me."

"Vincent, what am I going to say to my colleagues, to Gabriel?"

He narrows his eyes. "That fucker had better watch himself." he snarls.

"Vincent!" I admonish. "He's my boss."

Vincent's mouth presses into a hard line. He looks like a recalcitrant schoolboy. "Don't tell them," he murmurs.

"Don't tell them what?"

"That I own SIP. The heads of agreement was signed yesterday. The news is embargoed for four weeks while the management at SIP makes some changes."

"Oh... will I be out of a job?" I ask, alarmed.

"I sincerely doubt it," Vincent says wryly, trying to stifle his smile.

I scowl. "If I leave and find another job, will you buy that company, too?"

"You're not thinking of leaving, are you?" His expression alters, wary once more.

"Possibly. I'm not sure you've given me a great deal of choice." I hiss.

"Yes, I'll buy that company, too." He's adamant. I scowl at him again. I'm in a no-win situation here. "Don't you think you're being a tad overprotective?"

"Yes. I'm fully aware of how this looks."

"Paging Dr. Marks" I murmur.

He puts down his empty bowl and gazes at me impassively. I sigh. _I don't want to fight._ Standing up, I reach for his bowl. "Would you like dessert?" I ask.

"Now you're talking!" he says, giving me a lascivious grin.

"Not me."_ Why not me?_ My inner goddess wakes from her doze and sits upright, all ears. "We have ice cream. It's Vanilla." I snicker.

"Really, now?" Vincent's grin gets bigger. "I think we could do something with that." he adds.

_What?_ I stare at him dumbfounded as he gracefully gets to his feet. "Can I stay?" he asks.

"What do you mean?"

"The night."

"I assumed that you were." I flush.

"Good. Where's the ice cream?"

"In the oven." I smile sweetly at him, batting my eyes. He cocks his head to one side, sighs, and shakes his head at me. "Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Miss Chandler." His eyes glitter. _Oh shit. What's he planning? _"I could still take you across my knee." he adds, his eyes dakening.

I place the bowls in the sink. "Do you have those silver ball things?"

He pats his hands down his chest, belly, and the pockets of his jeans. "Funnily enough, I don't carry a spare set around with me. Not much call for them in the office."

"I'm_ very_ glad to hear it, Mr. Keller. Thought you said that sarcasm was the lowest form of wit?" I say crossing my arms.

"Well, Catherine, my new motto is 'if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.'"

I gape at him—_I can't believe he's just said that_—and he looks sickeningly pleased with himself as he grins at me. Turning, he opens the freezer and takes out the carton of Ben & Jerry's finest vanilla. "This will do just fine." He looks up at me, eyes dark. "Ben... Jerry's... & Catherine." He says each word slowly, enunciating every syllable clearly.

_Oh fucking my!_ I think my lower jaw is on the floor. He opens the cutlery drawer and grabs a spoon. When he looks up, his are eyes hooded, and his tongue skims his top teeth. _Oh, that tongue... _I feel winded. Desire, dark, sleek, and wanton runs hot through my veins. _We're going to have fun, with food._

"I hope you're warm." he whispers. "Because I'm going to cool you down with this. Come on." He holds out his hand, and I place mine in his.

* * *

><p>In my bedroom he places the ice cream on my bedside table, pulls the duvet off the bed, and removes both the pillows, placing them all in a pile on the floor. "You have a change of sheets, don't you?"<p>

I nod, watching him, fascinated. He holds up Charlie Tango.

"Don't mess with my balloon," I hiss in warning. His lips quirk upward in half a smile. "Wouldn't dream of it baby, but I _do_ want to mess with you all over these sheets."

_Somebody help! I think I just died!_

"I want to tie you up." he breathes.

_Oh..._ "Okay." I whisper.

"Just your hands. To the bed. I need you still."

"Okay." I whisper again, incapable of anything more. He strolls over to me, not taking his eyes off mine.

"We'll use this." He takes hold of my robe sash and with delicious, teasing slowness, releases the bow, and gently pulls it free of the garment. My robe falls open while I stand paralyzed under his heated gaze.

After a moment, he pushes the robe off my shoulders and it falls, pooling at my feet so that I'm standing fully naked before him. He strokes my face with the backs of his knuckles, and his touch resonates in the depths of my groin. Bending, he kisses my lips briefly.

"Lie on the bed, face up," he whispers, his eyes darkening, burning into mine and I do as I'm told. My room is shrouded in darkness except for the soft, insipid light from my lamp. Normally, I hate energy-saving bulbs—_they are so dim_—but being naked here, with Vincent, I'm grateful for the muted light. He stands by the bed gazing down at me.

"I could look at you all day, Catherine," he says, and with that, he crawls onto the bed, up my body, and straddles me. "Arms above your head," he commands.

I comply and he fastens the end of my robe sash round my left wrist and threads the end through the metal bars at the head of my bed. He pulls it tight so my left arm is flexed above me. He then secures my right hand, tying the sash tightly. Once tied-up, I stare at him, and he visibly relaxes. _He likes me tethered. I can't touch him this way._

It occurs to me that none of his subs would have touched him either—and what's more, they would never have the opportunity to. He would have always been in control and at a distance. _That's why he likes his rules._

He climbs off of me and bends to give me a quick peck on the lips. Then he stands and lifts his shirt over his head. He undoes his jeans and drops them to the floor, and he's gloriously naked.

My inner goddess is doing a triple axle dismount off the uneven bars, and abruptly my mouth is dry. _He really is __beyond beautiful..._ He has a physique drawn on classical lines: broad muscular shoulders, narrow hips, the inverted triangle. _He obviously works out. I could look at him all day._

He moves to the end of the bed and grasps my ankles, pulling me swiftly and sharply downward so that my arms are stretched out and I'm unable to move. "That's much better." he mutters.

Picking up the tub of ice cream, he climbs smoothly back onto the bed to straddle me once more. Very slowly, he peels off the lid of the tub and dips the spoon in. "Hmm... it's still quite hard." he says with a raised brow. Scooping out a spoonful of the ice cream, he pops it into his mouth. "Mmm." he hums his satisfaction while licking his lips. "It's amazing how _good_ plain old vanilla can taste." He gazes down at me and smirks. "You want some?" he teases.

_God, h__e looks so freaking hot! _Young and carefree—sitting astride me and eating from a tub of ice cream. His eyes bright, and his face luminous. _Oh, what the hell is he going to do to me?_ As if I can't tell. I nod, shyly.

He scoops out another spoonful and offers me the spoon, so I open my mouth, then he quickly pops it in his mouth again. "Mmm, oh no, this is just too good to share." he says, smiling wickedly.

"Hey!" I start in protest.

"Why, Miss Chandler, do you like _your_ vanilla?"

"Yes!" I say more forcefully than I mean and try in vain to buck him off.

He laughs. "Getting feisty, are we? I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Ice cream." I plead.

"Well, since you've pleased me so much today, Miss Chandler, perhaps you deserve a bite." He relents and offers me another spoonful. This time he lets me eat it. I want to giggle. He's really enjoying himself, and his good humor is infectious. He scoops another spoonful and feeds me some more, then he does it again._ Okay, enough_.

"Hmm, well, this is one way to ensure you eat. Force-feed you. I could get used to this." he murmurs with a smile.

Taking another spoonful, he offers me more. This time I keep my mouth shut and shake my head, and he lets it slowly melt on the spoon so that the melted ice cream drips down onto my throat, then onto my chest. He dips himself down and very slowly licks it off of me. My body lights up with longing.

"Mmm. It tastes even better off of you, Miss Chandler."

I pull against my restraints and the bed creaks ominously, but I don't care—I'm burning with desire to the point that it's consuming me. He takes another spoonful and lets the ice cream dribble onto my breasts. Then with the back of the spoon, he spreads it over each breast slowly.

_Oh... it's __so __cold_. Each nipple peaks and hardens beneath the cool of the vanilla.

"Cold?" Vincent asks softly and bends to lick and suckle all of the ice cream off of me once more, his mouth is hot compared to the coolness of the ice.

_Oh my!_ _It's torturous__!_

As it starts to melt, the ice cream runs off of me in rivulets onto the bed. His lips continue their slow torture, sucking hard and nuzzling softly—_Oh please!_—I'm now panting.

"Want some more?" And before I can confirm or deny his offer, his tongue is in my mouth, and it's cold and skilled and tastes of Vincent and vanilla. _Oh, so delicious! _

And just as I'm getting used to the sensation, he sits up again and trails a spoonful of ice cream down the center of my body, across my stomach, and into my navel where he deposits a large dollop of ice cream. _Oh, this is chillier than before! _But weirdly it burns.

"Now, we've done this before." Vincent's eyes shine. "You're gonna have to stay still, or there will be ice cream all over the bed." He kisses each of my breasts and sucks each of my nipples, _hard_, then follows the line of ice cream down my body, sucking and licking as he goes. And I try... I try so hard to stay still, despite the heady combination of cold and his inflaming touch. But my hips start to move involuntarily, gyrating to their own rhythm, caught up in his cool vanilla spell. He shifts lower and starts eating the ice cream in my belly, swirling his tongue into and around my navel. I moan. _Holy cow!_ It's cold, it's hot, it's tantalizing, but he doesn't stop. He trails the ice cream further down my body, onto my sex, and onto my clitoris. "Aagh!" I cry out, loudly.

"Hush, now," Vincent says softly as his magical tongue sets to work lapping up the vanilla, and now I'm keening quietly.

"Oh, dear God, Vincent... please!"

"I know, baby, I know," he breathes as his tongue works its magic. He doesn't stop. _He __just doesn't stop! _And my body is climbing—higher, and higher. Suddenly, he slips one finger inside me, then another and he moves them with agonizing slowness, in and out.

"Yes, feel me." he murmurs, and he rhythmically strokes the front wall of my vagina while he continues the exquisite, relentless licking and sucking. _Holy fucking cow!_

I erupt unexpectedly into a mind-blowing orgasm that stuns all my senses, obliterating all that's happening outside of my body as I writhe and groan. _Jeez, that was so quick._

I'm vaguely aware that he's stopped his ministrations. He's hovering over me, sliding on a condom, and then he's inside me, _hard_ and _fast_.

"Aagh, yes!" He groans as he slams into me. He's sticky. The residual melted ice cream spreading between us. It's a strangely distracting sensation, but one I can't dwell on for more than a few seconds as Vincent suddenly pulls out of me and flips me over onto my front.

"This way," he murmurs and abruptly is inside me once more, but he doesn't start his usual punishing rhythm straight away. He leans over, releases my hands from the bed, and sits back on his feet, pulling me upright so I am practically sitting on him. His hands move up to my breasts, and he palms them both, tugging gently on my nipples. I moan, tossing my head back against his shoulder.

He nuzzles my neck, biting down, as he flexes his hips, deliciously slow, filling me again and again.

"Do you know how much you mean to me, Catherine?" he breathes against my ear.

"No." I gasp. He smiles against my neck, and his fingers curl around my jaw and throat, holding me still for a moment, turning my head so that I face him. Our eyes lock instantaneously.

"I think you do. I'm not ever letting you go." he whispers. I groan as he starts to move again, slowly picking up speed. "You are mine, Catherine."

"Yes, I'm all yours, Vincent" I pant.

"I take care of what's mine." he hisses and bites my ear.

I cry out.

"That's right, Catherine. Let me hear you." He snakes one hand around my waist, splaying his fingers on my stomach while his other hand grasps my hip, digging his fingers into my heated flesh, and he pushes into me even harder, making me cry out again. And the punishing rhythm starts. His breathing grows harsher and harsher, ragged even, matching mine. I feel the familiar quickening deep inside of me._ Jeez, again!_

I'm just all sensation. This is what he does to me—takes my body and possesses it wholly so that I think of nothing _but_ him. His magic is powerful, and intoxicating. I'm a butterfly caught in his net, unable and unwilling to escape. _I'm his... __all__ his!_

"Come on, Catherine," he growls through gritted teeth, and on cue, like the sorcerer's apprentice that I am, I let go, and we find our release together, and we collapse down onto the bed.

I'm lying curled up in his arms on sticky sheets. His front is pressed to my back, his nose in my hair. "What I feel for you frightens me." I whisper.

He stills. "Me too, babe." he says quietly.

"What if _you_ leave me?" I ask. The thought is completely horrifying.

"I'm not going anywhere. I don't think I could ever have my fill of you, Catherine."

I turn and gaze at him. His expression is serious, sincere. I lean over and kiss him gently and he smiles and reaches up to tuck my hair behind my ear. "I've never felt the way I felt the moment you walked away from me, Catherine. I would move heaven and earth to avoid feeling like that again." He sounds so sad, dazed even. I kiss him again. I want to lighten our mood somehow, but Vincent does it for me.

"Will you come with me to my father's summer party tomorrow? It's an annual charity thing. I said I'd go." he asks in a sigh.

I smile, feeling suddenly shy. "Of course I'll go." _Oh shit. I have nothing to wear._

"What?" he says, catching onto my distraught look.

"Nothing."

"Tell me," he insists.

"I have nothing to wear." I whisper shyly.

Vincent looks momentarily uncomfortable. "Don't be mad, but I still have all those clothes for you at home. I'm sure there are a couple of dresses in there."

I purse my lips. "Do you, now?" I mutter, my voice sardonic. I don't want to fight with him tonight and I need a shower.

* * *

><p>The girl who looks like me is standing outside SIP. Hang on—she <em>is<em> me. I'm pale and unwashed, and all my clothes are too big and I'm staring at her, and she's wearing my clothes—happy and healthy.

"What do _you_ have that_ I _don't?" I ask her.

"Who are you?" my reflection asks back.

"I'm nobody... Who are _you_? Are you nobody, too...?"

"There's a pair of us—don't tell, they'd banish us, you know..." She smiles, a slow, evil grimace that spreads across her face, and it's so chilling that I start to scream.

"Jesus, Catherine!" Vincent is shaking me awake. I'm so disorientated. I'm at home... in the dark... in bed with Vincent. I shake my head, trying to clear my mind.

"Baby, are you okay? You were having a bad dream." He looks almost terrified. Worried.

"Oh." I breathe, confused by my dream. He switches on the lamp so we're bathed in its dim light and he gazes down at me, his face still etched with concern.

"The girl," I whisper.

"What is it? What girl?" he asks soothingly.

"There was a girl outside SIP when I left this evening. She looked like me... but not really."

Vincent stills, and as the light from the bedside lamp warms up, I see his face is ashen. "When was this?" he whispers, dismayed. He sits up, staring down at me.

"When I left this afternoon..." I trail off when his expression changes. "Do you know who she is?" I ask.

"Yes." He runs a hand through his hair.

"Who?"

His mouth presses into a hard line, but he says nothing.

"Vincent, who is she?" I press.

"It's Alex." he murmurs angrily. "Shit!" he hisses, covering his face with his palms. I swallow hard. _The ex-sub!_ I remember Vincent talking about her before we went gliding. Suddenly, he's radiating tension. _Something is going on._

"The girl who put 'Toxic' on your iPod?" I ask.

He glances at me anxiously. "Yes," he says. "Did she say anything to you?"

"She said, '_what do you have that I don't?_' and when I asked who she was, she said, _'nobody_.' "

Vincent closes his eyes as if in pain. _Oh no. What's happened? What does she mean to him? _My scalp prickles as adrenaline spikes through my body. _What if she means a lot to him? Perhaps he misses her?_ I know so little about his past..._ um, relationships_. She must have had a contract, and she would have done what he wanted, given him what he needed gladly.

_Oh no—__and__ I can't! _The thought makes me physically sick.

* * *

><p>Climbing out of bed, Vincent drags on his jeans and heads into the main room. I glance at my alarm clock and it shows that it's five in the morning. I roll out of bed, putting his white shirt on, and follow him.<em> Holy shit, he's on the phone.<em>

"Yes, outside SIP, yesterday... early evening." he says quietly. He turns to me as I move toward the kitchen and asks me directly, "What time exactly?"

"About ten to six?" I mumble._ Who __on Earth i__s he calling at this hour? What's __Alex__ done?_ He relays the info to whoever's on the line, not taking his eyes off me, his expression dark and earnest.

"Find out how... Yes... I wouldn't have said so, but then again, I wouldn't have thought she could do this." He closes his eyes as if he's in pain. "I don't know how that will go down... Yes, I'll talk to her... Yes... I know... Follow it up and let me know. Just find her, Welch—she's in trouble. Find her." He hangs up.

"Do you want some tea?" I ask. _Tea, __Thomas__' answer to every crisis and the only thing he does well in the kitchen._ I fill the kettle with water.

"Actually, I'd like to go back to bed." His look tells me that it's not to sleep.

"Well, I need some tea. Would you like to join me for a cup?" _I want to know __what's going on! I will not be sidetracked by sex!_

He runs his hand through his hair in exasperation. "Yes, please," he says, but I can tell he's irritated.

I put the kettle on the stove and busy myself with teacups and the teapot. My anxiety level has shot to DEFCON ONE. _Is he going to tell me the problem? Or am I going to have to dig? _I sense his eyes on me—sense his uncertainty, and his anger is palpable. I glance up, and his eyes glitter with apprehension.

"What is it?" I ask softly.

He shakes his head.

"You're not going to tell me?" I gasp.

He sighs and closes his eyes. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because it shouldn't concern you, Catherine. I don't want you tangled up in this mess."

"It shouldn't concern me, but it does. She found me and accosted me outside _my_ office. How does she know about me? How does she know where I work? I think I have a right to know what's going on."

He runs a hand through his hair again, radiating frustration as if waging some internal battle.

"Please?" I ask softly.

His mouth sets into a hard line, and he rolls his eyes at me. "Okay," he says, resigned. "I have no idea how she found you. Maybe the photograph of us in Portland, I don't know." He sighs again, and I sense his frustration is directed at himself.

I wait patiently, pouring boiling water into the teapot as he paces back and forth. After a beat he continues. "While I was with you in Georgia, Alex turned up at my apartment unannounced and made a scene in front of Gail."

"Gail?" _Who the hell is that?_

"Mrs. Jones."

_Oh... _"What do you mean, '_made a scene_'?"

He glares at me, appraising.

"Tell me! You're keeping something back and it's worrying me." My tone is more forceful than I feel.

He blinks at me, surprised. "Catherine, I—" he stops.

"Please?"

He sighs in defeat. "She made a haphazard attempt to open a vein."

"Oh my God!" I gasp, covering my mouth. _That explains the bandage on her wrist._

"Gail got her to the hospital. But Alex discharged herself before I could even get there." he adds.

_Crap! What does this mean? Suicidal? Why?_

"The shrink who saw her called it a typical cry for help. He didn't believe her to be _truly_ at risk. One step from suicidal idealation, he called it. But I'm not convinced. I've been trying to track her down since then to get her some help."

"Did she say anything to Mrs. Jones?" I ask.

He gazes at me. He looks really uncomfortable.

"Not much," he says eventually, but I know he's not telling me everything.

I distract myself with pouring tea into teacups. _So __Alex__ wants back into __Vincent__'s life and chooses a suicide attempt to attract his attention? Whoa... scary. But __effective._ Then it hits me. _Vincent_ _left Georgia to be at her side, but she disappears before he gets there? How odd._

"You can't find her? What about her family?"

"They don't know where she is. Neither does her husband." he murmurs.

"Husband?" _What?!_

"Yes," he says distractedly, "she's been married for about two years."

_What __the fucking hell?!_"So she was with you while she was married?" _Holy fuck. He really has no boundaries!_

"No! Good God, no. She was with me nearly three years ago. Then she left and married _this_ guy shortly afterward." he says defensive.

_Oh..._ "So why is she trying to get your attention now?"

He shakes his head sadly. "I don't know. All we've managed to find out is that she ran out on her husband about four months ago."

"Let me get this straight. She hasn't been your submissive for three years?" I ask.

"About two and a half years, to be exact."

"And she wanted more." I whisper.

"Yes."

"But you didn't?"

"You know this." he mutters matter-of-factly.

"So she left you?"

"Yes."

"So why is she coming to you now?"

"I don't know." And the tone of this voice tells me that he at least has a theory.

"But you suspect..." my voice trails off as the thought of her coming back to be with him skims through my mind. I cringe.

His eyes narrow perceptibly with anger. "I actually suspect it has something to do with you."

_Me? What would she want with me? _Then her haunting words replay in my head._What do you have that I don't? _I stare at Fifty, magnificently naked from the waist up. _I have him. __H__e's __all __mine. _That's what I have, and yet she looked like me: same dark hair and pale skin. I frown at the thought. _Yes... what do I have that she doesn't?_

"Why didn't you tell me yesterday?" he asks softly.

"I forgot about her to be honest." I shrug apologetically. "You know, drinks after work, at the end of my first week. You turning up at the bar and your... testosterone rush with Gabe, and then when we were _here_. It slipped my mind. You have a habit of making me forget things."

"Testosterone rush?" His lips twitch.

"Yes. The pissing contest." I smirk.

"I'll show you testosterone rush." he says, sauntering towards me, his eyes dark and longing.

"Wouldn't you rather have a cup of tea?" I gasp as my breathing accelerates due to his choice of words.

"No, Catherine, I wouldn't. Right now, I could really give a fuck about tea." His eyes burn into me, scorching me with his I-want-you-and-I-want-you-now look. _Fuck... it's so hot!_

"Forget about her, Catherine. Come to bed with me." He holds out his hand.

My inner goddess does three back flips over the gym floor as I grasp his hand.

And he tugs my hand, pulling me into his embrace, scooping me up bridal style into his arms. I'm so off guard by his actions that I squeal and instantly burst into a fit of giggles as he carries me back into the bedroom. He tosses me onto the bed like a sack of potatoes and then kicks the door closed.

I sit up on my elbows as I watch him ever so slowly stalk his was towards me. He licks his lips, hunger consuming him and it's completely infectious... my desire for him in this moment is visibly ovbious. As he approaches the bed, he crawls up my body, a sexy-seductive smile on his face and I lay back onto the bed.

My breathing has increased and his gaze is nearly enough to cause me to combust. He grabs my hands, weaving our fingers together while pushing my hands into the mattress above my head, and I can feel his heated breath upon my lips, his erection at my hip. He leans down and trails hot and wet kisses from my chin to the base of my ear and he tugs lightly on my lobe, causing me to arch my back and squeeze his hands. I feel his smile on my neck as he whispers into my ear, "You. Are. Mine."

* * *

><p><em><strong>**Asfgjk! Okay, I am totally dying here. Sorry that it's a little short, but I don't want to reveal too much at a time lol. I hope everyone knows that HEA will be in this story. NO TRIANGLES so please don't freak out lol. Oh, and I'm debating on whether or not to do the once a week thing so everbody can catch up. Not sure though. Anyways, let me know what ya think. REVIEWS! XOXO!**<strong>_


	31. Chapter 31

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><strong>*WARNING: The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, graphic sexual content, and DOMSUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Extra: I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: I know it's hard to picture, but Gabriella is blond in this fic lol.)**

_Italics represent Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 31-<strong>_

I wake, too warm, and I'm wrapped around a naked Vincent Keller. Even though he's fast asleep, he's holding me close. Soft morning light filters through the curtains. My head is on his chest, my legs tangled with his, my arm across his stomach.

I raise my head slightly, scared that I might wake him. He looks so young, so relaxed in sleep, so utterly beautiful. _I can't quite believe this Adonis is mine, all mine._

_Hmm..._ Reaching up, I tentatively stroke his chest, running my fingertips across the softness of his skin, and he doesn't stir._ Holy cow!_ _I can't quite believe it. He's really mine—_for a few more precious moments. I lean over and tenderly kiss one of his scars. He moans softly but doesn't wake, and I smile. I kiss another and his eyes flutter open.

"Hi." I grin at him, guiltily.

"Hi," he answers warily. "What are you doing?"

"Looking at you." I run my fingers down his happy trail. He captures my hand, narrows his eyes, then smiles a brilliant Vincent-at-ease smile, and I relax. My secret touching stays a secret.

_Oh... why won't you let me touch you?_

Suddenly he moves on top of me, pressing me into the mattress, his hands on mine, warning me. He strokes my nose with his. "I think you're up to no good, Miss Chandler." he accuses but his smile remains.

"I like being up to no good near you." I whisper and grin.

"Is that so?" he asks and kisses me lightly on the lips. "Sex or breakfast?" he asks, his eyes dark, but full of humor. His erection is digging into me, and I tilt my pelvis up to meet him.

"Good choice. Your on top." he murmurs against my throat, as he flips us over, causing me to squeal a giggle as he sits up until we're nose to nose, and he begins kissing me passionately.

* * *

><p>I stand at my chest of drawers, staring at my mirror, trying to coax my hair into some semblance of a style—<em>really, it's just too long.<em> I'm in jeans and a T-shirt, and Vincent, freshly showered, is dressing behind me. I gaze at his body hungrily.

"How often do you work out?" I ask.

"Every weekday." he says, buttoning his fly.

"What do you do?"

"Run, weights, kick-box." He shrugs.

"Kick-box?" I ask, surprised.

"Yes, I have a personal trainer, an ex-Olympic contender who teaches me. His name is Claude. He's very good. You'd like him." he smiles.

I turn to gaze at him as he starts to button up his white shirt. "What do you mean I'd like him?"

"You'd like him as a trainer."

"Why would I need a personal trainer? I have _you_ to keep me fit." I smirk at him.

He saunters over and wraps his arms around me from behind, his darkening eyes meeting mine in the mirror.

"But I want you fit, Catherine, for what I have in mind. I'll need you to keep up."

I flush as memories of the playroom flood my mind._ Yes... the __Red Room __of Pain is exhausting. Is he going to let me back in there? Do I want to go back in? Of course you do!_ My inner goddess screams at me from her chaise lounge.

I stare into his unfathomable, mesmerizing brown eyes.

"You know you want to," he mouths at me. I flush, and the undesirable thought that Alex could probably keep up slithers, invidious and unwelcome into my mind.

I press my lips together and Vincent frowns at me. "What?" he asks, concerned.

"Nothing." I shake my head at him. "Okay, I'll meet Claude."

"You will?" Vincent's face lights up in astounded disbelief. His expression makes me smile. He looks like he's won the lottery, though Vincent's probably never even bought a ticket—_he has no need __to_.

"Yes, jeez. If it makes you _that_ happy." I scoff. He tightens his arms around me and kisses my cheek. "You have no idea." he whispers. "So... what would you like to do today?" He nuzzles me, sending delicious tingles through my body.

"I'd like to get my hair cut, and um... I need to bank a check and buy myself a car."

"Ah." he says knowingly and bites his lip. Taking one hand off me, he reaches into his jeans pocket and holds up the key to my little Audi. "It's here," he says quietly, his expression uncertain.

"What do you mean, it's here?" _Boy, I sound angry. Crap! I am angry!_ My subconscious glares at him. _How dare he!_

"Sam brought it back yesterday." he murmurs. I open my mouth then close it and repeat the process twice, but I have been rendered speechless. He's giving me back the car. _Double crap!_ _Why didn't I foresee this? Well, two can play at that game._

I fish in the back pocket of my jeans and pull out the envelope with his check. "Here, this is yours."

Vincent looks at me quizzically, then recognizing the envelope, raises both his hands and steps away from me. "Oh no. That's _your_ money."

"No, it isn't. I'd like to buy the car from you." I snap.

His expression changes completely. Fury—_yes, fury_—sweeps across his face. "No, Catherine. Your money, your car." he snaps at me.

"No, Vincent. _My _money, _your_ car. I'll buy it from you."

"I gave you that car as your graduation present." he sounds wounded. But I'm just not backing down from this. "If you'd given me a pen, that would've been a suitable graduation present. You gave me an Audi."

"Do you really want to argue about this?"

"No." I whisper.

"Good. Here are the keys." He puts them on the chest of drawers.

"That's not what I meant!" I snap.

"End of discussion, Catherine. Don't push me." he snaps back, angrily. I scowl at him, then inspiration hits me. Taking the envelope, I rip it in two, then two again and drop the contents into my waste bin. _Oh, that feels good._

Vincent gazes at me impassively, but I know I've just lit the blue touch paper and should stand well back. He strokes his chin. "You are, as ever, challenging, Miss Chandler." he says dryly. He turns on his heels and stalks into the other room. _That__'s__ not the reaction I expected._ I was anticipating full scale Armageddon. I stare at myself in the mirror and shrug, deciding on a ponytail.

My curiosity is piqued. _What is Fifty doing?_ I follow him into the room, and he's on the phone. "Yes, twenty-four-thousand dollars. Directly." He glances up at me, still impassive. "Good... Monday? Excellent... No that's all, Andrea." He snaps the phone shut. "Deposited in your bank account, Monday. Don't play games with me." He's boiling mad, but I don't care.

"Twenty-four-thousand dollars?!" I'm almost screaming. "And how do you know my account number?" I add.

My ire takes Vincent by surprise. "I know everything about you, Catherine." he says quietly.

"There's no way my car was worth twenty-four-thousand dollars!"

"I would agree with you, but it's about knowing your market, whether you're buying or selling. Some lunatic out there wanted that death trap and was willing to pay that amount of money. Apparently, it's a classic. Ask Sam if you don't believe me."

I glower at him and he glowers back, two angry stubborn fools glaring at each other. And then suddenly, I feel it, the pull—the electricity between us—tangible, drawing us together. Suddenly he grabs me and pushes me up against the door, his mouth on mine, claiming me hungrily, one hand on my behind pressing me into his groin and the other in the nape of my hair, tugging my head back. My fingers are in his hair, twisting hard, holding him to me. He grinds his body into mine, imprisoning me, his breathing ragged. I feel him. He wants me, and I'm heady and reeling with excitement as I acknowledge his need for me.

"Why? Why do you defy me?" he mumbles between his heated kisses. My blood sings in my veins. _Will he always have this effect on me? And I on him?_

"Because I can." I'm breathless. I feel rather than see his smile against my neck, and he presses his forehead to mine.

"Lord, I want to fuck you right now, but I'm out of condoms. Seems I can never get enough of you. You're a maddening, maddening woman." he breathes against my lips.

"And you piss me off." I whisper. "In every way."

He shakes his head. "Come on. Let's go out for breakfast. And I know a place you can get your haircut."

"Okay." I acquiesce and just like that, our fight is over.

* * *

><p>"I'll get this." I pick up the tab for breakfast before he does.<p>

He scowls at me.

"You have to be quick around here, Keller."

"You're right, I do." he says sourly, though I think he's teasing.

"Don't look so cross. I'm twenty-four-thousand dollars richer than I was this morning. I can afford"—I glance at the check briefly—"twenty-two dollars and sixty-seven cents for breakfast." I smile, batting my eyes at him.

"Thank you." he says grudgingly. _Oh, the sulky schoolboy is back._

"Where to now?" I ask.

"You really want your hair cut?"

"Yes, look at it." I hold a handful out trying to make a point at how long it is.

"You look lovely to me. You always do." he whispers, causing my heart flutter. I blush and stare down at my fingers knotted in my lap. "And there's your father's function this evening, and I want to look my best."

"Remember, it's black tie." he murmurs.

_Oh Jeez_. "Where is it?"

"At my parents' house. They have a marquee. You know, the works."

"What's the charity?" I ask.

Vincent rubs his hands down his thighs, looking uncomfortable. "It's a drug rehab program for parents with young kids called Coping Together."

"Sounds like a good cause," I say softly.

"Come on, let's go." He stands, effectively halting that topic of conversation and holds out his hand. As I take it, he tightens his fingers around mine. It's strange. He's so demonstrative in some ways and yet so closed in others. He leads me out of the restaurant, and we walk down the street. It is a lovely, mild morning. The sun is shining, and the air smells of coffee and freshly baked bread.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"It's a surprise."

_Oh, okay._ _I don't really like surprises._

* * *

><p>We walk for two blocks, and the stores become decidedly more exclusive. I haven't yet had an opportunity to explore, but this really is just around the corner from where I live. Tess will be pleased. There are plenty of small boutiques to feed her fashion passion. Actually, I need to buy some floaty skirts for work. Vincent stops outside a large, slick-looking beauty salon and opens the door for me. It's called Esclava. The interior is all white and leather.<p>

At the stark white reception desk sits a young blond woman in a crisp white uniform. She glances up as we enter. "Good morning, Mr. Keller" she says brightly, color rising in her cheeks as she bats her eyelashes at him. It's the Keller effect;_ but she knows him! How?_

"Hello Greta."

_And he knows her. What is this?_

"Is this the usual, sir?" she asks politely. She's wearing very pink lipstick.

"No." he says quickly, with a nervous glance at me.

_The usual? What does that mean?_

_Holy fuck! It's Rule no 6, the damned beauty salon. All the waxing nonsense... shit! This is where he brought all his subs? Maybe __Alex__, too? What the hell am I supposed to make of this?_

"Miss Chandler will tell you what she wants." he adds. I glare at him. He's introducing the Rules by stealth. I've agreed to the personal trainer—_and now this?_

"Why here?" I hiss at him.

"I own this place, and three more like it."

"You own it?" I gasp in surprise. _Well, that's unexpected._

"Yes. It's a sideline. Anyway, whatever you want, you can have it here, on the house. All sorts of massages; Swedish, shiatsu, hot stones, reflexology, seaweed baths, facials, all that stuff that women like... everything. It's all done here." He waves his long-fingered hand dismissively.

"Waxing?" I ask before I can even think about it.

He laughs. "Yes waxing, too. Everywhere." he whispers conspiratorially, enjoying my discomfort.

I blush and glance at Greta, who is looking at me expectantly. "I'd like a haircut, please."

"Certainly, Miss Chandler." Greta is all pink lipstick and bustling Germanic efficiency as she checks her computer screen.

"Fernando is free in five minutes." she smiles gingerly.

"Fernando's fine." says Vincent reassuringly to me. I'm trying to wrap my head around this. Vincent Keller, CEO, owns a chain of beauty salons.

I peek up at him, and suddenly he blanches. Something, or someone, has caught his eye. I turn to see where he's looking, and right at the back of the salon stands a sleek platinum blond, frosted haired woman has appeared, closing a door behind her and speaking to one of the hair stylists.

Platinum Blond is tall, tanned, lovely, and in her late thirties or forties—it's difficult to tell. She's wearing the same uniform as Greta, but in red. She looks stunning. Her hair shines like a halo, cut in sharp layers. As she turns, she catches sight of Vincent and smiles at him, a dazzling smile of warm recognition.

"Excuse me." Vincent mumbles hurriedly. He strides quickly through the salon, past the hair stylists all in white, past the apprentices at the sinks and over to her, too far away for me to hear their conversation. Platinum Blond greets him with obvious affection, kissing both his cheeks, her hands resting on his upper arms, and they talk animatedly together.

"Miss Chandler?" Greta the receptionist is trying to get my attention.

"Hang on a minute, please." I watch Vincent, fascinated.

Platinum Blond turns and looks at me, and gives me the same dazzling smile, as if she knows me. I smile politely back.

Vincent looks upset about something. He's reasoning with her, and she's acquiescing, holding her hands up and smiling at him. He's smiling at her too. _C__learly they know each other well._ _Perhaps they've worked together for a long time? Maybe she runs the place;_ after all, she has a certain look of authority. Then it hits me like a wrecking ball, and suddenly I know, deep down in my gut on a visceral level, I know who it is. _It's her. Stunning, older, beautiful... It's Mrs. Robinson __A.K.A: Gabriella!_

"Greta, who is Mr. Keller talking to?" My scalp is trying to leave the building. It's prickling with apprehension, and my subconscious is screaming at me to follow it. But I sound nonchalant enough.

"Oh, that's Mrs. Hernandez. She owns the place with Mr. Keller." Greta seems more than happy to share.

"Mrs. Hernandez?"_ I thought Mrs. Robinson was divorced?_ _Perhaps she's remarried to some poor sap._

"Yes. She's not usually here, but one of our technicians is sick today so she's filling in."

"Do you happen to know Mrs. Hernandez's first name?" I ask, hotly upset as I cross my arms, narrowing my eyes at Vincent.

Greta looks up at me, frowning, and purses her bright pink lips, questioning my curiosity. _Shit, perhaps this is a step too far._ "Gabriella." she says, almost reluctantly.

I'm swamped by a strange sense of relief that my spidey sense has not let me down._ Spidey sense?_ My subconscious snorts, _Paedo sense._

They're still deep in discussion. Vincent is talking rapidly to Gabriella, and she looks worried, nodding, grimacing, and shaking her head. Reaching out, she rubs his arm soothingly while biting her lip. Another nod, and she glances at me and offers me a small reassuring smile. I can only stare at her stony-faced. I think I'm in shock. _How could he bring me here?_

She murmurs something to Vincent, and he looks my way briefly then turns back to her and replies. She nods, and I think she's wishing him luck, but my lip-reading skills aren't highly developed.

Fifty strides back to me, anxiety etched on his face. _Damn right!_ Mrs. Robinson returns to the back room, closing the door behind her.

Vincent frowns. "Are you okay?" he asks, but his voice is strained, cautious.

"Not really, no. You didn't want to introduce me?" My voice sounds cold, hard. His mouth drops open, he looks as if I've pulled the rug from under his feet. "But I thought—"

"For a bright man, Vincent, sometimes..." Words fail me. I sigh. "I'd like to go." I say angry.

"Why?"

"You know why." I snap, hissing at him as I roll my eyes. He gazes down at me, his eyes burning. "I'm sorry, Cat. I didn't know she'd be here. She's never here. She's opened a new branch at the Bravern Center, and that's where she's normally based. Someone was sick today."

I turn on my heels and head for the door.

"We won't need Fernando, Greta," Vincent snaps as we head out of the door. I have to suppress the impulse to run. I want to run fast and very far away. I have an overwhelming urge to cry. I just need to get away from all this fucked-up-ness.

* * *

><p>Vincent walks wordlessly beside me as I try to mull all of this over in my head. Wrapping my arms protectively around myself, I keep my head down, avoiding the trees on Second Avenue. Wisely, he makes no move to touch me.<p>

"You used to take your subs there?" I snap suddenly, breaking the silence.

"Some of them, yes." he says quietly, his tone clipped.

"Alex?"

"Yes."

"The place looks very new."

"It's been refurbished recently."

"I see. So Mrs. Robinson met all your subs?" I ask, angrily.

"Yes."

"Did they know about her?"

"No. None of them did. Only you."

"But I'm _not_ your sub." I snap, spinning around to face him. My anger is evident.

"No, you most definitely are not." His eyes are wide, fearful. His lips are pressed into a hard, uncompromising line.

"Can you see how fucked-up this is?" I glare up at him, my voice low.

"Yes. I'm sorry." And he has the grace to look contrite.

"I want to get my haircut, preferably somewhere where you haven't fucked either the staff or the clientele." I hiss.

He flinches.

"Now, if you'll excuse me." I begin walking again, and of course, he follows.

"You're not running. Are you?" he asks.

"No, I just want a damn haircut. Somewhere I can close my eyes, have someone wash my hair, and forget about all this baggage that accompanies you."

He runs his hand through his hair. "I can have Fernando come to the apartment, or your place." he says quietly.

"She's very attractive." I change the subject back to Mrs. Robinson.

He blinks. "Yes, she is."

"Is she still married?" I ask.

"No. She divorced about five years ago."

"So why aren't you with her?" I stop walking, turning to face him again.

"Because that's over between us. I've told you this, Catherine." His brow creases suddenly. Holding his finger up, he fishes his BlackBerry out of his jacket pocket. It must be vibrating because I don't hear it ring.

"Welch." he snaps, then listens. We are standing on Second Avenue, and I gaze in the direction of the larch sapling in front of me, its leaves the newest green.

People bustle past us, lost in their Saturday morning chores. No doubt contemplating their own personal dramas. I wonder if they include stalker ex-submissives, stunning ex-Dommes, and a man who has no concept of privacy under United States law.

"Killed in a car crash? When?" Vincent interrupts my reverie.

_Oh no. Who?_ I listen more closely.

"That's twice that bastard's not been forthcoming. He must know. Does he have no feelings for her whatsoever?" Vincnet shakes his head in disgust. "This is beginning to make sense... no... explains why, but not where." Vincent glances around us as if searching for something, and I find myself mirroring his actions. Nothing catches my eye. There are just the shoppers, the traffic, and the trees.

"She's here?" Vincent continues. "She's watching us?... Yes... No. Two or four, twenty-four seven... I haven't broached that yet." Vincent looks at me directly.

_Broached what?_ I frown, at him and he regards me warily.

"What?..." he whispers and pales, his eyes widening. "I see. When?... That recently? But how?... No backgrounds?... I see. E-mail the name, address, and photos if you have them... twenty-four seven, from this afternoon. Liaise with Sam." Vincent hangs up.

"Well?" I ask, exasperated. _Is he going to tell me?_

"That was Welch."

"Who's Welch?"

"My security advisor."

"Okay. So what's happened?"

"Alex left her husband about three months ago and ran off with a guy who was killed in a car accident four weeks ago."

"Oh." I murmur.

"The asshole shrink should have found that out." he says angrily. "Grief, that's what this is. Come on." He holds out his hand, and I automatically place mine in his before I snatch it away again.

"Wait a minute! We were in the middle of a discussion, about us. About _her_, your Mrs. Robinson." I snap.

Vincent's face hardens. "She's not _my_ Mrs. Robinson. We can talk about it at my place."

"I don't want to go to your place. I want to get my damned hair cut!" I shout. _If I can just focus on __this one __thing..._

He grabs his BlackBerry from his pocket again and dials a number. "Greta, Vincent Keller. I want Fernando at my place in an hour. Ask Mrs. Hernandez... Good." He puts his phone away. "He's coming at one."

"Vincent!" I splutter, exasperated.

"Catherine, Alex is obviously suffering a psychotic break. I don't know if it's you or me she's after, or what lengths she's prepared to go to. We'll go to your place, pick up your things, and you can stay with me until we've tracked her down."

"And why would I want to do that?" I cross my arms, in full bitch mode.

"So I can keep you safe." he breathes.

"But—"

He glares at me. "You're coming back to my apartment if I have to drag you there by your hair."

I gape at him... _this is beyond belief_. Fifty Shades in Glorious Technicolor. "I think you're overreacting."

"I don't. We can continue our discussion back at my place. Come on." he holds his hand out to me for me to take it.

I fold my arms and glare at him. _This has gone too far! _"No!" I state stubbornly._ I have to make a stand_.

"You can walk or I can carry you. I don't mind either way, Catherine." he snaps.

"You wouldn't dare." I scowl at him in a whisper. _Surely he wouldn't make a __scene __on Second Avenue?_

He half smiles at me, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Oh, baby, we both know that if you throw down the gauntlet, I'll be only _too_ happy to pick it up."

We glare at each other—and abruptly, he sweeps down, clasps me around my thighs, and lifts me. Before I know it, I'm over his shoulder.

"Put me down!" I scream. _Oh, it feels __so __good to scream._

He starts striding along Second Avenue, ignoring me. Clasping his arm firmly around my thighs, he swats my behind with his free hand.

"Vincent!" I shout. _Oh, God... p__eople are staring! Could this be any more humiliating?_ "I'll walk! I'll walk!"

He puts me down, and before he's even stood upright, I stomp off in the direction of my apartment, seething, ignoring him. Of course, he's by my side in moments, but I continue to ignore him. _What am I going to do?_ I am so angry, but I'm not even sure what I am angry about—_there's so much_.

* * *

><p>As I stalk back home, I make a mental list:<p>

1. Shoulder carrying_—unacceptable for anyone over the age of six!_

2. Taking me to the salon that he owns with his ex-lover_—how stupid can he be?!_

3. The same place he took his submissives_—same stupidity at work here!_

4. Not even realizing that this was a bad idea_—and he's supposed to be a bright guy._

5. Having crazy ex-girlfriends._ Can I blame him for that? _I am so furious;_ yes, I can!_

6. Knowing my bank account number_—that's just too stalkery by half!_

7. Buying SIP_—he's got more money than sense._

8. Insisting I stay with him_—the threat from Alex must be worse than he feared... he didn't even mention that yesterday._

_Oh no, _realization dawns_. Something's changed. What could that be?_ I halt, and Vincent halts with me. "What's happened?" I demand.

He knits his brow. "What do you mean?"

"With Alex."

"I've told you."

"No, you haven't. There's something else. You didn't insist that I go to your place yesterday. So what's happened?" I hiss.

He shifts uncomfortably.

"Vincent! Tell me!" I snap.

"She managed to obtain a concealed weapons permit yesterday."

_Oh shit._ I gaze at him, blinking, and feel the blood draining from my face as I absorb this news. I may faint. _Suppose she wants to kill him? No!_

"That just means that she can buy a gun." I whisper.

"Catherine..." he says, his voice full of concern. He places his hands on my shoulders, pulling me close to him. "I don't think she'll do anything stupid, but—I just don't want to take that risk with you."

"Not me... what about _you_?" I whisper. He frowns down at me, and I wrap my arms around him and hug him hard, my face against his chest. _He doesn't seem to mind._

"Let's get back." he murmurs, and he reaches down and kisses my hair, and that's it. All my fury is gone, but not forgotten. Dissipated under the threat of some harm coming to Vincent. The thought is unbearable.

Solemnly I pack a small case and place my Mac, the Blackberry, my iPad, and Charlie Tango in my backpack.

"Charlie Tango's coming, too?" Vincent asks.

I nod and he gives me a small, indulgent smile.

"Tim is back Tuesday," I mutter.

"Tim?" he asks.

"Tess' brother. He's staying here until he finds a place in Seattle."

Vincent gazes at me blankly, but I notice the frostiness creep into his eyes. "Well, it's good that you'll be staying with me. Gives him more room." he says quietly.

"I don't know that he's got keys. I'll need to be back then." I mutter.

Vincent gazes at me impassively but says nothing.

"That's everything." I breathe. He grabs my case, and we head out the door.

* * *

><p>As we walk around to the back of the building to the parking lot, I'm aware that I'm looking over my shoulder. I don't know if my paranoia has taken over or if someone really <em>is<em> watching me. Vincent opens the passenger door of the Audi and looks at me expectantly. "Are you getting in?" he asks.

"I thought I was driving." I cross my arms.

"No. I'll drive." he sighs.

"Something wrong with my driving? Don't tell me you know what I scored on my driving test?... I wouldn't be surprised with your stalking tendencies." _Maybe he knows that I just scraped through the written test._

"Just get in the car, Catherine." he snaps angrily.

"Fine!" I hastily climb in. _Honestly, chill, will you?_

Perhaps he has the same uneasy feeling, too. Some dark sentinel watching us—_well, a pale brunette with b__lue__ eyes who has an uncanny resemblance to yours truly and quite possibly a concealed firearm._

Vincent sets off into the traffic.

"Were all of your submissives brunettes?" I ask as the thought occurs to me.

He frowns and glances at me quickly. "Yes." he mutters. He sounds uncertain, and I imagine him thinking, _w__here's she going with this?_

"I just wondered." I whisper.

"I told you. I prefer brunettes." he sighs.

"Mrs. Robinson isn't a brunette."

"That's probably why." he mutters. "She put me off blondes forever."

"You're kidding." I gasp.

"Yes. I'm kidding." he replies, exasperated. I stare impassively out the window, spying brunettes everywhere, none of them Alex, though. _So, he only likes brunettes. I wonder why? Did Mrs. Extraordinarily-Glamorous-In-Spite-Of-Being-Old Robinson really put him off blondes?_ I shake my head—_Vincent__ Mindfuck __Keller__._

"Tell me about her." I murmur.

"What do you want to know?" Vincent's brow furrows, and his tone of voice tries to warn me off.

"Tell me about your business arrangement."

He visibly relaxes, happy to talk about work. "I'm a silent partner. I'm not particularly interested in the beauty business, but she's built it into a successful venture. I just invested and helped get her started."

"Why?" I hiss.

"I owed it to her."

"Oh?" _I'm so confused!_

"When I dropped out of Harvard, she lent me a hundred grand to start my business." he breathes.

_Holy fuck... she's rich, too?_

"You dropped out?" I ask.

"It wasn't my thing. I did two years. Unfortunately, my parents weren't as understanding."

I frown. Mr. Keller and Dr. Mary Keller disapproving._ I __just __can't __picture __it._

"You don't seem to have done too badly dropping out. What was your major?"

"Politics and Economics." he sighs.

_Hmm... figures._

"So she's rich?" I murmur.

"She was a bored trophy wife, Catherine. Her husband was wealthy—big in timber." He smirks. "He wouldn't let her work. You know, he was _controlling_. Some men are like that." He gives me a quick sideways grin.

"Really? A controlling man, surely a mythical creature?" I don't think I can squeeze any more sarcasm into my response. Vincent's grin gets bigger.

"So, she lent you her husband's money?"

He nods and a small mischievous smile appears on his lips.

"That's terrible." I gasp.

"He got his own back." Vincent says darkly as he pulls into the underground garage at Escala.

_Oh? _"How?" I ask, curious.

Vincent shakes his head as if recalling a particularly sour memory and parks beside the Audi Quattro SUV. "Come on babe. Fernando will be here shortly."

* * *

><p>In the elevator Vincent peers down at me. "Still mad at me?" he asks matter-of-factly.<p>

"Very." I whisper.

He nods. "Okay." he says, and stares straight ahead.

Sam is waiting for us when we arrive in the foyer. _How does he always know?_ He takes my case.

"Has Welch been in touch?" Vincent asks.

"Yes, sir."

"And?"

"Everything's arranged."

"Excellent. How's your daughter?" Vincent asks.

_What? Sam has a daughter?! _

"She's fine, thank you, sir."

"Good. We have a hairdresser arriving at one. Fernando De Luca."

"Miss Chandler." Sam nods at me.

"Hi, Sam. You have a daughter?"

"Yes ma'am."

"How old is she?" I'm so thrilled. I smile.

"She's seven."

Vincent gazes at me impatiently.

"She lives with her mother." Sam clarifies.

"Oh, I see." I whisper.

Sam smiles at me. This is unexpected. _Sam__'s a father?_ I follow Vincent into the great room, intrigued by this information. I glance around. I haven't been here since the day I walked out.

"Are you hungry?" he asks. I shake my head. Vincent gazes at me for a beat and decides not to argue. "I have to make a few calls. Make yourself at home."

"Okay." I whisper.

Vincent disappears into his study, leaving me standing in the huge art gallery he calls home and I wonder what to do with myself.

_Clothes!_ Picking up my backpack, I wander upstairs to my bedroom and check out the walk-in closet. It's still full of clothes, all brand new with price tags still attached. Three long evening dresses, three cocktail dresses, and three more for everyday wear. All of this must have cost him a fortune.

I check the tag on one of the evening dresses: $2,998. _Holy fuck!_ I sink to the floor. _This isn't me._ I put my head in my hands and try to process the last few hours. It's exhausting. _Why, oh why have I fallen for someone who is plain crazy—beautiful, sexy as fuck, richer than Croesus, and crazy with a capital K?_

* * *

><p>I fish my Blackberry out of my backpack and call my mom.<p>

"Cat, honey! It's been so long. How are you, darling?"

"Oh, you know..." I trail off in a whisper.

"What's wrong? Still not worked things out with Vincent?"

"Mom, it's complicated. I think he's completely nuts. That's the problem." I murmur quickly into the phone, trying in some way to vent.

"Pfft! Tell me about it. Men... there's just no reading them sometimes. Bob's now wondering if our move to Georgia was a good one or not."

I gasp. "What?"

"Yeah, I know, right? He's talking about going back to Vegas."

_Oh... Well, at least I'm not the only one having men issues._

Vincent appears in the doorway. "There you are. I thought you'd run off." His relief is obvious. I hold my hand up to indicate that I'm on the phone. "Sorry, Mom. I have to go. I'll call again soon."

"Okay, honey. Take care of yourself. Love you!" she sighs tired-like.

"Love you too, Mom." I hang up and gaze at Fifty.

He frowns, looking strangely awkward. "Why are you hiding in here?" he asks.

"I'm not hiding. I'm despairing." I breathe.

"Despairing?"

"Of all of this, Vincent." I wave my hand in the general direction of the clothes.

"Can I come in?" he whispers.

I scoff. "It's your closet."

He frowns again and sits down, cross-legged, facing me. "They're just clothes, Cat. If you don't like them, I'll send them back."

"You're a lot to take on, you know?" I murmur, as I sigh. He blinks at me and scratches his chin... his stubbly chin. My fingers itch to touch him.

"I know, Catherine. I'm trying."

"You're _very_ trying."

"As are you, Miss Chandler."

We pause, losing ourselves in the other as we gaze. I break the delicious stare-off as I sigh. "Why are you doing this?"

His eyes widen and his wary look returns. "You know why, Catherine."

"No, I don't." I snap.

He runs a hand through his hair. "You are one frustrating female, do you know that?"

I take a deep breath. "You could have a nice brunette submissive. One who'd say 'how high?' every time you said jump, provided of course she had permission to speak. So why me, Vincent? I just don't understand." I breathe.

He gazes at me for a moment, and I have no idea what he's thinking. Then suddenly, he prepares to speak. "You make me look at the world differently, Catherine. You don't want me for my money. You give me... hope." he says softly.

_What? Mr. Cryptic is back! _"Hope for what?" I breathe.

He shrugs. "For more." His voice is low and quiet. "And you're right. I am used to women doing exactly what I say, when I say it; doing exactly what I want, when I want it. It gets old quickly. But there's something about you, Catherine, that calls to me on some deep level that I don't understand. It's like a siren's call. I can't resist you, and I don't want to lose you." He reaches forward and takes my hand as he continues. "Don't run, please... have a little faith in me and a little patience. Please."

He looks so vulnerable... _Jeez, it's disturbing seeing him like this. _Leaning up on my knees, I bend forward and place a swift sweet kiss on his lips. "Okay." I breathe. "Faith and patience... I can live with that."

"Good. Because Fernando's here." he smiles.

* * *

><p>Fernando is small, dark, and extremely gay. <em>I totally love him!<em>

"Such beautiful hair!" he gushes with an outrageous, and I'm assuming, Italian accent. His enthusiasm is infectious.

Vincent leads us both into his bathroom, exits hurriedly, and reenters carrying a chair from his room. "I'll leave you two to it." he mutters.

"Grazie, Mr. Keller." Fernando turns to me. "Bene, Catherine, what shall we do with you?"

* * *

><p>Vincent is sitting on his couch plowing through what look like spreadsheets. Soft, mellow, classical music drifts through the great room. A woman sings passionately, pouring her soul into the song. It's breathtaking. Vincent glances up and smiles, distracting me from the music.<p>

"See! I tell you he like it, Miss Chandler." Fernando enthuses.

"You look lovely, Catherine." Vincent says breathlessly as he gazes at me. I blush, and smile a shy smile at him.

"My work 'ere is done." Fernando exclaims, clapping his hands together.

"Thank you, Fernando." Vincent says, not taking his eyes off me.

Fernando turns, grasps me in an overwhelming bear hug, and kisses both my cheeks. "Never let anyone else be cutting your hair, bellissima, Catherine!"

I laugh, slightly embarrassed by his familiarity. Vincent shows him to the foyer door and returns moments later.

"I'm glad you kept it long." he says as he walks toward me, his eyes bright. Yes, my hair is still long, but I did have it cut up to my shoulder blades with elegant layers. He takes a strand between his fingers. "So soft." he murmurs, gazing down at me." Are you still mad at me?"

I nod and he smiles. "What exactly are you mad at me about?" he asks.

I roll my eyes. "You want the list?"

"There's a list?"

"A long one, Mr. Keller." I sigh.

"Can we discuss it in bed?" he says, tilting his head to one side.

"No." I pout at him childishly.

"Over lunch then? I'm hungry, and not just for food." he gives me a salacious smile.

"I'm not going to let you dazzle me with your sexpertise." I cross my arms.

He stifles a smile. "What is bothering you specifically, Miss Chandler? Spit it out."

_Okay... here goes. _I sigh. "What's bothering me... yes, well, there's your gross invasion of my privacy, the fact that you took me to some place where your ex-mistress works, not to mention the fact that you used to take all your lovers to have their bits waxed, you manhandled me in the middle of a busy street like I was six years old... and, to cap it all off, you let _your_ Mrs. Robinson touch you!" My voice has risen to a crescendo.

He raises his brows, and his good humor vanishes. "That's quite a list. But just to clarify it once more; she's not _my_ Mrs. Robinson."

"She can touch you." I repeat, hissing.

He purses his lips. "She knows where."

I scoff in anger, crossing my arms. "And what is _that_ supposed to mean?" I hiss.

He runs both hands through his hair and closes his eyes briefly, as if he's seeking divine guidance of some kind. He swallows. "You an I don't have any rules. I've never had a relationship without rules, and I never know where you're going to touch me. It makes me nervous. Your touch completely—" He stops, searching for the words to say. "It just means more... so much more." he swallows.

_More? _His answer is completely unexpected, throwing me, and there's that little word again... the one with the big meaning hanging between us. _My touch means... more. Holy cow! How am I supposed to resist when he says this stuff? _Brown eyes search mine, watching, apprehensively. Tentatively, I reach out and apprehension shifts to alarm. Vincent steps back and I drop my hand.

"Hard limit." he whispers urgently, a pained, panicked look on his face.

I can't help but feel a crushing disappointment. "How would you feel if you wasn't allowed to touch me?"

"Devastated and deprived." he says immediately.

_Oh, my Fifty Shades... _Shaking my head, I offer him a small, reassuring smile and he relaxes. "You'll have to tell me why this is a hard limit, one day." I murmur. "Please." I add in a whisper.

"One day." he breathes and seems to snap out of his vulnerability in a nanosecond. _How can he switch so quickly? _He's the most capricious person I know. "So, the rest of your list..." he continues. "Invading your privacy?" His mouth twists as he contemplates this. "Because I know your bank account number?"

"Yes, that's outrageous." I snap.

"I do background checks on all my submissives. I'll show you." He turns and heads for his study. I dutifully follow him, dazed.

From a locked filing cabinet, he pulls a manilla folder. Typed on the tab is: **Catherine Elizabeth Chandler.**

_Holy fucking shit!_

I glare at him, not sure what to say next. He shrugs apologetically. "You can keep it if you'd like." he says quietly.

"Why, gee, thanks!" I snap. I flick through the contents. He has a copy of my birth certificate—f_or heavens sake_—the NDA, the contract—_Jeez!_—my social security number, resume, employment records...

_Wait, hold up! _"So you knew I worked at Clayton's?"

"Yes." he whispers.

"It wasn't a coincidence? You didn't just drop by?" I hiss.

"No." he murmurs.

I don't know whether to be angry or flattered right now. I sigh, rolling my eyes as I close the folder. "This is fucked-up. You know that, right?"

"I don't see it that way. What I do, I have to be careful."

"But this is all private, Vincent."

"I don't misuse the information. Anyone can get a hold of it if they have half a mind to, Catherine. To have control, I need info. It's how I've always operated." He gazes at me, his expression guarded and unreadable.

"That's where your wrong. You do misuse the information. You've just deposited twenty-four thousand dollars into my account that I didn't want."

His mouth presses in a hard line. "I told you. That's what Sam managed to get for your car. Unbelievable, yes, I know, but there you go."

I sigh. _He just don't get it! _"But the Audi..."

"Catherine," he interrupts, "do you have any idea how money I make?"

I flush. _Of course not... _"Why should I? I don't need to know the bottom line of your bank account, Vincent."

His eyes soften and he half-way grins nervously. "I know." he swallows hard as he briefly closes his eyes. He opens them and gazes at me. "That's one of the things I love about you."

I stare blankly at him as the color drains from my face. _Love about... me? _I'm completely shocked in this moment of confession.

"Catherine, I earn roughly one hundred thousand dollars a day..." he trails off. My mouth drops to the floor. _That is an obscene amount of money! Oh my God! _"Twenty-four thousand dollars is nothing to me. The car, the Tess books, the clothes... they're all nothing." His voice is soft.

I gaze at him. _He really has no idea. Extraordinary... _"If you were me, how would feel about all this... largesse coming your way?" I ask.

He stares at me blankly, and there it is, his problem in a nutshell. Empathy or, the lack thereof. The silence stretches between us. Finally, he shrugs. "I honestly don't know." he says, and he looks genuinely bemused.

My heart swells. _This is it, the crux of his Fifty Shades, surely. He just can't put himself in my shoes. Now I know..._ "It doesn't feel too great. I mean, yes, you're very generous, but it makes me uncomfortable. I've told you this enough times." I talk more calmly now.

He sighs. "I want to give you the world, Catherine."

"All I want is you, Vincent. Not all the add-ons." I whisper.

"They're all part of the deal. Part of what I am." he replies.

_Oooh! This is going nowhere! _"Shall we eat?" I ask. This tension between us is draining.

He frowns. "Sure."

I sigh, finally glad this conversation is over... _well, for now at least._ "I'll cook then."

"Good. Otherwise, there's food in the fridge." he smiles.

"Mrs. Jones is off on the weekends? So, what, you just eat cold cuts most weekends?"

"No."

"Oh?" _Once again, I'm confused._

He sighs. "My submissives cooked, Catherine."

"Oh, of course." I flush. _How could I be so stupid? _I smile sweetly at him. "And what would _Sir _like to eat?"

He smirks. "Whatever Madam can find." he says darkly.

* * *

><p><em><strong>**Okay, these chapters should hold you a while. Questions so far? Please feel free to ask! I wonder if my FSOG readers can tell where I have changed some of the chapters? -evil laugh- lmao! Anyways, I officially love vanilla ice cream, wouldn't you all agree? Night, darlings! REVIEWS!**<strong>_


	32. Chapter 32

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><strong>*WARNING: The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, graphic sexual content, and DOMSUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Extra: I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: This is going to be a fun chapter... well, sort of lol. Enjoy!)**

_Italics represent Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 32-<strong>_

Inspecting the impressive contents of the fridge, I decide on Spanish Omelets. There are even cold potatoes. _Perfect! It's quick and easy. _Vincent's still in his study, no doubt invading some poor, unsuspecting fool's privacy and compiling information. The thought is unpleasant and leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. My mind is reeling. He really knows no bounds.

_I need music if I'm going to cook, and I'm going to cook un-submissively! _I wander over to the iPod dock beside the fireplace and pick up Vincent's iPod. _I bet there are more of Alex's choices on here..._ I dread the very idea.

_Where is she? _I wonder. _What does she want? _I shudder. What a legacy. I can't seem to wrap my head around it.

I scroll through the extensive list. I want something upbeat. _Hmm, Beyonce? Doesn't sound like Vincent's taste. _Crazy in Love._ Oh, hell yes! This song I like. _I hit the repeat button and turn the volume up loud. I sashay back to the kitchen and find a bowl. I open the fridge and grab the eggs, sitting them onto the counter. I crack them open and begin to whisk, dancing the whole time.

Raiding the fridge once more, I gather the potatoes, and some diced ham, then I grab a bag of frozen peas from the freezer. _Yes, all of these will definitely do! _Finding a pan, I place it on the stove, put in a little olive oil, and go back to whisking.

_No empathy,_ I muse._ Is this unique to Vincent? _Maybe all men are like this, baffled by women. I just don't know. Perhaps, it's not such a revelation after all.

I wish Tess were home; she'd know. She's been in Barbados far too long. She should be back at the end of the week after her additional vacation with JT. I wonder if it's still lust at first sight for them.

_One of the things I love about you... _

I stop whisking. He said it. _Does that mean there are other things? _I smile for the first time since seeing Gabriella—a genuine, heartfelt, face-splitting smile.

Suddenly, I jump from being startled by a pair of hands slipping around my waist. It's Vincent.

"Interesting choice of music." he purrs as he kisses me below my ear. "Your hair smells good." He nuzzles my hair and inhales deeply. Desire uncurls in my belly._ No!_ I shrug out of his embrace.

"I'm still mad at you." I whisper, clearing my throat.

He frowns. "How long are you going to keep this up?" he asks, dragging a hand through his hair.

I shrug. "At least until I've eaten."

His lips twitch with amusement. Turning, he picks up the remote from the counter and switches off the music.

"Did you put that on your iPod?" I ask, sighing. He shakes his head, his expression somber, and I know it was her... Ghost Girl. "Did you not think that she was trying to tell you something back then?" I add.

"Well, with hindsight, probably." he says quietly.

_QED. No empathy!_ My subconscious folds her arms and smacks her lips in disgust. "Why is it still on there?"

"I quite like the song. But if it offends you, I'll remove it." he murmurs.

"No, it's fine. I like to cook to music."

"What would you like to hear, then?" He picks up the remote again, waiting for my reply.

I shrug. "Surprise me."

He smirks at me and points the remote towards the iPod dock while I go back to my whisking. Moments later, the heavenly sweet, soulful voice of Nina Simone fills the room. It's one of Thomas' favorites: _Put A Spell On You._

I flush, turning to gape at Vincent. _What is he trying to tell me? He put a spell on me a long time ago. Oh my... _His look has changed, the levity gone, his eyes darker and intense. I watch him, enthralled as slowly, like the predator he is. He stalks me in time to the slow sultry beat of the music. He's barefoot, wearing just an untrucked white shirt, jeans, and a smoldering look.

Nina sings 'you're mine' as Vincent reaches me, his intentions are very clear. "Vincent, please." I whisper, the whisk redundant in my hand.

"Please, what?"

"Don't do this."

"Do what, Catherine?"

I sigh. "This."

He's standing in front of me, gazing down at me. "Are you sure?" he breathes and reaching over, he takes the whisk from my hand and places it back in the bowl with the eggs. My heart is pounding against my chest. I don't want this—I _do _want this!—oh, so badly. _He's so frustrating! He's so hot and desirable! _I tear my gaze away from his spell-binding look.

"Catherine, I want you." he murmurs. "I love and I hate, and I love arguing with you. It's very new. I need to know that we're okay. It's the only way I know how."

"My feelings for you haven't changed." I whisper. His proximity is very overwhelming, exhilarating. The familiar pull is there, tugging at my heart... _hard. _All my synapses goading me toward him, my inner goddess at her most libidinous. Staring at the exposed skin in the V of his shirt, I bite my lip, helpless, driven by desire. _Oh, I want to taste him there..._

He's so close now, but he doesn't touch me. His heat is warming my skin. "I'm not going to touch you until you say so, Catherine." he says softly. "But right now, after a really shitty morning, all I want is to bury myself in you and just forget everything but us."

_Dear God... Us! _A magical combination, a small potent pronoun that clinches the deal. I raise my head to stare at his beautiful, yet serious face. "I'm going to touch your face." I warn, knowing he freaks out when I raise my hands in his direction. He's surprised and the emotion briefly reflects in his eyes before his acceptance registers.

Lifting my hand, I caress his cheek, running my fingertips across his stubble below his side-burn. He closes his eyes and exhales, leaning his face into my touch. He leans down slowly, and my lips automatically lift to meet his. He hovers over me, not moving any further. "Yes or no, Catherine?" he whispers.

I blink a few times, trading glances between his lips and his eyes as I swallow hard. "Yes."

His mouth softly closes on mine, coaxing, coercing my lips apart as his arms fold around me, pulling me to him. His hand moves up my back, fingers tangling in my hair at the back of my head and tugging softly, while his other hand flattens on my behind, forcing me against him. I moan softly into his mouth.

"Mr. Keller." Sam coughs, clearing his throat. Vincent releases me immediately. "Sam." he says, his voice frigid.

I whirl around to see and uncomfortable Sam standing on the threshold of the great room. Vincent and Sam stare at each other, some unspoken communication passing between them. "My study." Vincent snaps, and Sam walks briskly across the room.

"Rain check." Vincent whispers to me before following Sam out of the room. I take a deep, steadying breath. _Jesus! Can I not resist him for one minute? _I shake my head, disgusted at myself, grateful for Sam's interruption, though it's embarrassing.

* * *

><p>Moments later, Vincent returns and our lunch is finally ready. We eat in silence. I assume whatever Sam had interrupted our make-out session for, it had to be something to upset him. The silence is starting to frive me crazy. "Problem?" I murmur, taking another bite of my omelet.<p>

"No." he deadpans, but I know that he's lying. I shrug it off because he doesn't seem to want to talk about it. "This is good, thank you." he changes subject.

I smile awkwardly at him as I begin picking at my food. My appetite has vanished.

"You want a glass of wine?" he asks.

"No. Thank you." I whisper. I need to keep a clear head around him. Even though I'm not that hungry, I eat because I know Vincent will nag if I don't. Eventually Vincent disrupts our brooding silence and switches on the classical piece I heard earlier. "What's this?" I ask.

"Canteloube, Songs of the Auvergne. This is called Bailero."

"It's lovely. What language is it?"

"It's in old French—Occitan, in fact." he murmurs.

"So do you speak French? Do you understand it?" Memories of the flawless French he spoke at his parents' dinner come to mind...

"Some words, yes." Vincent smiles, visibly relaxing. "My mother had a mantra: musical instrument, foreign language, martial art. JT speaks Spanish; Tori and I speak French. JT plays the guitar, I play the piano, and Tori the cello."

"Wow. And the martial arts?" _I'm impressed._

"JT does Judo. Tori put her foot down at age of twelve and refused." He smirks at the memory.

"I wish my mother was that organized." I scoff.

He chuckles. "Mary is formidable when it comes to the accomplishments of her children."

"She must be very proud of you. I know I would be." I whisper.

A dark thought flashes across his face, and he looks momentarily uncomfortable. He regards me warily as if he's in uncharted territory. "Have you decided what you'll wear this evening? Or do I need to come and pick something for you?" His tone is suddenly brusque. _Whoa! What the hell is his problem?!_

"Um... not yet. But I don't need help picking out a dress, thank you very much... Did you choose all the clothes when you bought them?"

"No, Catherine, I didn't. I gave a list and your size to a personal shopper at Neiman Marcus. They should fit. Just so you know, I've ordered additional security for this evening and the next few days. With Alex unpredictable and unaccounted for somewhere on the streets of Seattle, I think it's a wise precaution. I don't want you going out alone. Okay?"

I blink at him. _Is she really that dangerous? _"Fine." I murmur. _Okay, hold up. What happened to I-want-you-now Keller?_

"Good, I'm going to brief them. I shouldn't be long." he mutters as he stands, taking his plate to the sink, then exiting the kitchen without another word. _What's eating him? __What's wrong with my Fifty Shades to have him seem so off so suddenly? Surely Alex isn't that much of a threat... Ugh!_

* * *

><p>I wash our dishes before retreating for my bedroom. Back in the walk-in closet, I pull out three long evening dresses. <em>Now, which one should I choose? <em>

Once I pick out my dress, I flop onto the bed, gazing at my Mac, my BlackBerry and my iPad. This is all so overwhelming with all of this technology. I set about transferring Vincent's playlist from my iPad to the Mac, then fire up Google to surf the web.

"What are you doing?" Vincent says, causing me to jump. I panic briefly, wondering if I should let him see the website I'm on: _Multiple Personality Disorder: The Symptoms._

Stretching out beside me, he eyes the web page with amusement. "On this site for a reason?" he asks nonchalantly. Brusque Vincent has gone and playful Vincent is back. _How the hell am I supposed to keep up with this?_

"Research. Into a difficult personality." I give him my most deadpan look.

His lips twitch with a suppressed smile. "A difficult personality?"

"My own pet project." I smile innocently.

"So I'm a pet project now? A sideline. Science experiment maybe. And when I thought that I was everything; Miss Chandler, you wound me."

"How do you even know that I'm referring to you?" I raise a brow.

"Wild guess." he smirks.

"It's true that you are the only fucked-up, mercurial, control freak that I know intimately."

"I thought I was the _only_ person you know intimately." He arches a brow.

I flush. "Yes. That too."

He chuckles. "Have you reached any conclusions yet?"

I turn and gaze at him. He's on his side stretched out beside me with his head resting on his elbow, his expression is soft and amused.

"I think you're in need of intense therapy." I try to keep a straight face, but fail miserably. I giggle.

He reaches up and gently tucks my hair behind my ears. "I think I'm in need of you, Catherine. Here." he hands me a tube of lipstick.

I frown at him, perplexed. It's harlot red, not my color at all. "You want me to wear this?" I squeak.

He laughs. "No, Cat, not unless you want to. Not sure that it's your color." he finishes dryly. He sits up on the bed cross-legged and drags his shirt over his head. _Oh my... _"I like your road map idea."

I stare at him blankly. _Road map?_

"The no-go areas." he says by way of explanation.

_Wow... _"Oh. I was just kidding, Vincent."

"I'm not." he looks at me with a serious expression.

_He really wants me to do this? _"You want me to draw on you, with lipstick?"

"It washes off. Eventually." he shrugs.

This means I could touch him freely. A small smile of wonder plays on my lips, and I smirk at him. "What about something more permanent? Like a sharpie?"

"I could get a tattoo." His eyes are alight with humor. _Vincent Keller with a tatt? Marring his lovely body, when it's marked in so many ways already? No way!_

"No to the tattoo!" I laugh to hide my horror.

"Lipstick it is, then." He grins.

Shutting the Mac, I push it to the side. _This could be fun!_

"Come here." He holds his hands out to me. "Sit on me." he adds.

I push my flats off of my feet, scramble into a sitting position, and crawl over to him. He lies down on the bed but keeps his knees flexed. "Lean against my legs."

I clamber over him and sit astride as instructed. His eyes are wide and cautious. But he's amused, too. "You seem... enthusiastic for this." he comments wryly.

"You should me by now. I'm always eager for information, Mr. Keller, and it means you'll relax, because I'll know where the boundaries lie."

He shakes his head, as if he can't quite believe that he's about to let me draw all over his body. "Open the lipstick." he orders softly.

_Oh, he's in uber-bossy mode. _But quite honestly, I don't really care.

"Give me your hand." he breathes. I give him my other hand. He laughs. "No, the one with the lipstick." He rolls his eyes at me.

"Are you rolling your eyes at me?" I murmur, cocking my head to one side.

"Yep."

I scoff. "That's very rude, Mr. Keller. I know some people who get positively violent at eye-rolling."

"Do you now?" His tone is ironic.

I giggle as I hand him my hand with the lipstick, and suddenly, he sits up so that we're nose to nose. "Ready?" he asks in a low, soft murmur that makes everything tighten and tense inside me. _Oh wow!_

"Yes." I whisper. His proximity is alluring, his toned flesh close, his Vincent-smell mixed with my bodywash. He guides my now shaky hand with the lipstick up to the curve of his shoulder.

"Press down." he breathes, and my mouth goes dry as he directs my hand down, from the top of his shoulder, around his arm socket then down the side of his chest. The lipstick leaves a broad, livid red streak in it wakes. He stops at the bottom of his ribcage then directs me across his stomach. He tenses and stares, seemingly impassive, into my eyes, but beneath his careful blank look, I see his restraint.

His aversion is held in strict check, the line of his jaw is strained, and there's tension around his eyes. Midway across his stomach, he murmurs, "And up the other side." He releases my hand.

I mirror the line I've drawn on his left side. The trust he's giving me is heady but tempered by the fact that I can I count his pain. Seven small, round white scars dot his chest, and its deep, dark purgatory to see this hideous, evil desecration of his beautiful body. _Who would do this to a child?!_

"There, done." I whisper, containing my emotion.

"No, you're not." he replies and traces a line with his long index finger around the base of his neck. I follow the line of his finger with the scarlet streak. Finishing, I gaze into the brown depths of his eyes.

"Now my back." he murmurs. He shifts so I have to climb off him, then he turns around on the bed and sits cross-legged with his back to me. "Follow the line from my chest, all the way around to the other side." His voice is low and husky.

I do as he says until a crimson line runs across the middle of his back, and as I do, I count more scars marring his beautiful body. Nine in all.

_Holy fuck! _I have to fight the overwhelming need to kiss each one and stop the tears pooling in my eyes. _What kind of animal would do this?! _His head is down, and his body tense as I complete the circuit around his back. "Around your neck, too?" I whisper.

He nods, and I draw another line joining the first around the base of his neck, beneath his hair. "Finished." I murmur, and it looks like he's wearing a bizarre skin-colored vest with a harlot-red trim. His shoulders slump as he relaxes, and he turns slowly to face me once again.

"Those are the boundaries." he says quietly, his eyes dark and pupils dilated... _From fear? From lust? _I just want to hurl myself at him, but I restrain myself and gaze at him in wonder.

"I can live with those. Right now I want to launch myself at you." I whisper.

He gives me a wicked smile and holds out his hands, a gesture of supplication. "Well, Miss Chandler, I'm all yours."

I squeal with childish delight and catapult myself into his arms, knocking him flat on the bed. He twists, letting out a boyish laugh filled with relief that the ordeal is over. Somehow, I end up beneath him.

"Now, about that rain check." he breathes and his mouth claims mine once more. He stands, keeping his eyes fixed on mine, and takes out a foil packet from his pocket, tossing it at me, then removes his jeans and boxers in one swift motion.

I rip the packet open greedily, and when he lies beside me again, I slowly roll the condom on to him. He grabs both my wrists and rolls on to his back. "You. On top." he orders, pulling me astride him. "I want to see you." he adds.

_Oh..._

He guides me, and hesitantly I ease myself down onto him. He closes his eyes and flexes his hips to meet me, filling me, stretching me, his mouth slightly open as he exhales.

_Oh, that feels so good! Possess him as he possesses me..._

He clasps my hands, weaving his fingers between mine, and I don't know if it's to steady me or keep me from touching him, even though I have my road map.

"You feel so good." he breathes.

I rise again, heady with the power I have over him, watching Vincent Keller slowly come apart beneath me. He lets go of my hands and grabs my hips, and I place my hands on his arms. He thrusts into me sharply, causing me to cry out his name in a whimpering moan.

"That's right, baby, feel me." he says, his voice strained and shuddered.

I tip my head back and do exactly that. _This is what he does so well. _

I move; countering his rhythm in perfect symmetry, numbing all thought and reason. I'm just consumed by sensation, lost in this void of pleasure. Up and down... again and again... _Oh yes!... _

Opening my eyes, I gaze down at him, my breathing ragged, and he's gazing back at me, eyes blazing.

"My Catherine." he moans.

"Yes." I rasp. "Always."

He groans loudly, closing his eyes again, tipping his head back further into the mattress. _Oh yes! _Seeing Vincent undone by me is enough to seal my fate, screaming out my orgasm as I get off exhaustingly, spinning down and around, then I collapse on top of him.

"Oh, Catherine." he groans as he finds his release, holding me still and letting go inside of me. My head is on his chest in the no-go area, my cheek nestled against his sternum. I'm panting, glowing, and I resist the urge to pucker my lips and kiss him on the chest.

I just lie on top of him, catching my breath. He smoothes my hair, and his hand runs down my back, caressing me as his breathing calms.

"You are so beautiful." he whispers.

I lift my head to gaze at him, my expression skeptical. He frowns in response and sits up quickly, taking me by surprise, his arm sweeping around to hold me in place. I clutch his biceps as we are nose to nose once more.

"You. Are. Beautiful." he says again, his tone emphatic.

"And you're amazingly sweet sometimes." I kiss him gently.

He lifts me and eases out of me, causing us both to wince. Leaning forward, he kisses me softly. "You have no idea how attractive you are, do you?" he asks.

I flush. _Why's he going on about this?_

"All of those boys pursuing you—that isn't enough of a clue?" he adds.

"Boys? What boys?"

"You want the list?" Vincent frowns. "The photographer—he's crazy about you. That guy in the hardware store. Your roommate's older brother." He pauses as he sighs. "Your boss." he adds bitterly.

"Oh, Vincent, that's so not true!"

"Trust me. They want you. They want what's mine." He pulls me against him, and I lift my arms to his shoulders, my hands in his hair, regarding him with amusement.

"Mine." he repeats, his eyes glowing possessively.

"Yes, yours." I reassure him, smiling. He looks mollified, and I feel perfectly comfortable being naked on his lap, on a bed in the full light of a Saturday afternoon. _Who would have thought? _

The lipstick marks remain on his exquisite body. I note some smears on the duvet cover though, and wonder briefly what Mrs. Jones will make of them.

"The line is still intact." I murmur and bravely trace the mark on his shoulder with my index finger. He stiffens, blinking suddenly. "I want to go exploring." I smile.

He regards me skeptically. "The apartment?"

"No. I was thinking about the treasure map that we've drawn on you." My fingers itch to touch him.

His eyebrows lift in surprise, and he blinks with uncertainty. I rub my nose against his, lovingly.

"And what would that entail exactly, Miss Chandler?"

I lift my hand from his shoulder and run my fingertips down his face. "I just want to touch you everywhere I'm allowed."

Vincent catches my index finger in his teeth, biting down gently. "Ow." I protest and he grins, a low growl coming from his throat.

"Okay." he sighs, releasing my finger, but his voice is laced with apprehension. "Wait." He leans behind me, lifting me again, and removes his condom, dropping it unceremoniously on the floor beside the bed.

_Did he really just do that? _

"I hate those things. I've a good mind to call Dr. Greene around to give you a shot."

"You think the top ob-gyn in Seattle is going to come running?" I raise a brow.

"Oh, Miss Chandler, I can be _very_ persuasive." he murmurs, hooking my hair behind my ear. "Fernando's donw a great job on your hair. I like these layers."

_What?_

"Stop changing the subject, Vincent."

He shifts me back so I'm straddling him, leaning on his propped-up knees, my feet on either side of his hips. He lies back onto his arms. "Touch away." he says without humor. He looks nervous, but he's trying to hide it.

Keeping my eyes on his, I reach down and trace my finger underneath the lipstick line, across his finely sculptured abdominal muscles. He flinches and I stop. "I don't have to." I whisper.

"No, it's fine. Just takes some... readjustment on my part. No one's touched me for a long time." he murmurs.

"Gabriella?" The words pop unbidden out of my mouth, and amazingly, I manage to keep all bitterness and rancor out of my voice.

He nods, his discomfort obvious. "I don't want to talk about her. It will sour your good mood."

"I can handle it." I mumble.

"No, you can't, Cat. You see red whenever I mention her. My past is my past. It's a fact. I can't change it. I'm lucky that you don't have one because it would drive me crazy if you did."

I frown at him, but I don't want to fight. "Drive you crazy? More than you are already?" I smile, hoping to lighten the atmosphere between us.

His lips twitch into a smile. "Crazy for you, Catherine." he whispers.

My heart swells with joy. "Shall I call Dr. Marks?"

"I don't think that'll be necessary." he says dryly.

Shifting back so he drops his legs, I place my fingers back on his stomach and let them drift across his skin. He stills once more.

"I like touching you." I whisper as my fingers skate down to his navel then southward along his happy, happy trail. His lips part as his eyes darken and his erection stirs and twitches beneath me. _Holy cow! Round two?_

"Again?" I murmur.

He smiles his wicked smile. "Oh, yes, Miss Chandler. Again." He sits up suddenly crushing his lips against mine and I giggle between kisses as he shifts our bodies so that I am beneath him. And in a matter of minutes, we become consumed once again in each other.

* * *

><p>I stand beneath the shower, absentmindedly washing myself, careful not to wet my tied-back hair, contemplating the last couple of hours. <em>What a delicious way to spend a Saturday afternoon. Vincent and vanilla seem to be going quite well...<em>

He's revealed so much today. It's staggering trying to assimilate all the information and to reflect on what I've learned: his salary details—_Whoa, he's stinking rich, and for someone so young; _it's just extraordinary—and the dossiers he has on me and on all his _brunette_ submissives. _I wonder if they are all in that filing cabinet? _And there's Alex—_with a gun, potentially, somewhere near—_and her crap taste in music still on his iPod. But even worse, Mrs. Pedo Robinson; A.K.A: Gabriella—I just can't wrap my head around her, and I don't want to. I don't want her to be a shimmering-haired spector in our relationship. He's right, I do go off the deep end when I think about that evil bitch, so perhaps it's best if I don't.

I step out of the shower and dry myself, and I'm suddenly seized by unexpected anger. _But who wouldn't go off the deep end? What normal, sane person would do that to a fifteen-year-old boy? How much has she contributed to his fucked-up-ness? _I don't understand her, and worse still, he says she helped him. _But how?_

I think of his scars, the stark physical embodiment of a horrific childhood and a sickening reminder of what mental scars he must bear. _My sweet, sad Fifty Shades... _

He's said such loving things today. _He's crazy for me._ Staring at my reflection, I smile at the memory of his words, my heart brimming once more, and my face transforms with a ridiculous smile. _Perhaps we can make this work. But how long will he want to do this without wanting to beat the crap out of me because I supposedly cross some arbituary line?_

My subconscious stares at me blankly, for once offering no snarky words of wisdom. I head back to my bedroom to dress. Vincent is downstairs getting ready himself, doing whatever he's doing, so I have the bedroom to myself. As well as all the dresses in the closet, I have drawers full of new underwear. I select a black bustier corset creation with a price tag of five hundred, forty dollars. It has silver trim like filagree and the briefest of panties to match. Thigh-high stockings, too, in a natural color, so fine, pure silk. _Wow, they feel... slinky... and kind of hot... yeah!_

I'm reaching for my dress when Vincent enters unannounced. _Hello?! You could knock! _He stands immobilized, staring at me, brown eyes glimmering hungrily. I blush crimson everywhere, it feels. He's wearing a white shirt and black suit pants, the neck of his shirt is open. I can see the lipstick line still in place, and he's still gazing at me.

"Can I help you, Mr. Keller? I assume there is some purpose to your visit other than to gawk mindlessly at me."

"I am rather enjoying my mindless gawk, thank you, Miss Chandler." he murmurs darkly, stepping further into the room and drinking me in. "Remind me to send a personal note of thanks to Caroline Acton." he adds.

I frown. _Who the hell is she?_

"The personal shopper at Neiman's." he says, spookily answering my unspoken question.

"Oh." I mouth.

"I'm quite distracted." he says huskily.

I bite my lip. "I can see that. What do you want, Vincent?" I give him my no-nonsense stare.

He retaliates with his crooked grin and pulls the silver ball egg-things from his pocket, stopping me in my tracks. _Holy shit! He wants to spank me? Now? Why?!_

"It's not what you think." he says quickly.

I cross my arms as I raise a brow. "Enlighten me, then." I whisper.

"I thought that you could wear these tonight."

_Wait... What?! _And the implications of that sentence hang between us as the idea sinks in. "To this event?" _I'm shocked!_

He nods slowly, his eyes darkening. _Oh my..._

"Will you spank me later?" I breathe.

"No."

For a moment, I feel a tiny fleeting stab of disappointment.

He chuckles. "You want me to?"

I swallow hard. I just don't know.

"Well, rest assured I'm not going to touch you like that, not even if you beg me to." he adds. _Oh! This is news... _"Do you want to play this game?" he continues, holding up the balls. "You can always take them out if it's too much."

I gaze at him. He looks so wickedly tempting—unkempt, recently fucked hair, dark eyes dancing with erotic thoughts, that beautiful sculptured mouth, lips raised in a sexy amused smile.

"Okay." I acquiesce softly. _Oh, hell yes! _My inner goddess has found her voice and is shouting from the rooftops.

"Good girl." Vincent grins. "Come here, and I'll put them in, once you've put your shoes on."

_My shoes?_ I turn and glance at the dove gray suede stilettos that match the dress I've chosen to wear. _Humor him! _My inner goddess barks at me.

He holds out his hand to support me while I step into the Vincent Louboutin shoes, a steal at three-thousand, two-hundred, and ninety-five dollars. I must be at least five inches taller now. He leads me to the bedside and doesn't sit, but walks over to the only chair in the room. Picking it up, he carries it over and places it in front of me.

"When I nod, you bend down and hold on to the chair. Understand?" His voice is husky.

"Yes." I breathe.

"Good. Now open your mouth." he orders, his voice still low. I do as I'm told, thinking he's going to put the balls in my mouth again top lubricate them. Nope. Instead, he slips his index finger in.

_Oh..._

"Suck." he says. I reach up and clasp his hand, holding him steady, and do as I'm told. _See? I can be obedient, when I want to, of course..._

He tastes of soap..._hmm... _I suck hard, and I'm rewarded when his eyes widen and his lips part as he inhales. _I'm not going to need any lubricant at this rate._ Suddenly, he pops the silver balls into his mouth as I fellate his finger, twirling my tongue around it. When he tries to withdraw it, I clamp my teeth down.

He grins then shakes his head, admonishing me, so I let go. He nods, and I bend down and grasp the sides of the chair. He kneels behind me and moves my panties to one side, and very slowly inserts his finger, circling leisurely, so I feel him, on all sides. I can't help the moan that escapes from my lips. He withdraws his finger briefly and with tender care, inserts the balls one at a time, pushing them deep inside me. Once they are in position, he smoothes me panties back in place and kisses my backside. Running his hands up each of my legs from ankle to thigh, he gently kisses the top of each thigh where my hold-up finish.

"You have some smoking hot legs, Miss Chandler." he murmurs.

Standing, he grasps my hips and pulls my behind against him so that I can feel his erection. "Maybe I'll have you this way when we get home, Catherine. You can stand now."

I feel giddy, beyond aroused as the weight of the balls push and pull inside me. Leaning down from behind me, Vincent kisses my shoulder.

"I bought these for you to wear to last Saturday's gala." He puts his arm around me and holds out his hand. In his palm rests a small red box with Catier inscribed on the lid. "But you left me, so I never had the opportunity to give them to you." he adds.

_Oh!_

"This is my second chance." he murmurs, his voice stiff with some unnamed emotion. He's nervous. Tentatively, I reach for the box and open it. I gasp. Inside shines a pair of drop earrings. Each has four diamonds, one at the base, then a gap, and three more perfectly spaced diamonds. They're beautiful, simple, and classic. Something I would choose myself if I had been shopping at Cartier.

"They're lovely, Vincent." I whisper, and because they are second-chance earrings, I absolutely love them. "Thank you." I add.

He relaxes against me as the tension leaves his body, and he kisses my shoulder again. "You're wearing the silver satin dress?" he asks.

"Yeah? Is that okay?"

"Of course. I'll let you get ready." He says as he heads out the door without a backward glance.

* * *

><p><em><strong>**Hey guys!. I hope I still have everyone's attention lol. Things are about to get crazy O.O Coming up in future chapters will be face-to-face encounters between Catherine, and with Vincent's past. Hopefully I'll update sooners rather than laters (lol I totally stole that line!) but I am totally inspired to work on my book and need to put my thoughts down with it ASAP lol. I hope you all know that if my book so happens to get published one day, the BATB nation is my inspiration. Beasties totally rock! Love you all! XOXO! REVIEWS!**<strong>_


	33. Chapter 33

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><strong>*WARNING: The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, graphic sexual content, and DOMSUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Extra: I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: This is one of my favorite chapters of the trilogy! I hope you all still love masquerades ;) Because we're totally going to one! I have a personal note at the end of the chapter in regards to this story. Thanks!)**

_Italics represent Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 33-<strong>_

I have entered an alternate universe. The young woman staring back at me looks worthy of a red carpet. Her strapless, floor-length, silver satin gown is simply stunning. Maybe I'll write to Caroline Acton myself It's fitted and flatters what little curves I have.

My hair falls in soft waves around my face, spilling over my shoulders to the tops of my breasts. I tuck one side behind my ear, revealing my second-chance earrings. I've kept my make-up to a minimum, a natural look. Eyeliner, mascara, a little pink blush, and a pale pink lipgloss.

I don't really need the blush. I'm slightly flushed from the constant movement of the silver balls._ Yes, they'll guarantee I have some color in my cheeks tonight._ Shaking my head at the audacity of Vincent's erotic thoughts, I lean down and grab my satin wrap and silver clutch purse and head off in search of my Fifty Shades.

* * *

><p>He's talking to Sam and three other men in the hallway, his back is facing me. Their surprised, appreciative expressions alert Vincent to my presence. He turns as I stand and wait awkwardly.<p>

_Holy cow! _My mouth dries at the sight of him._ He looks stunning..._

Black dinner suit, black bow tie, and his expression as he gazes at me is one of awe. He strolls toward me and kisses my hair. "My, my, Catherine. You look absolutely breathtaking."

I flush at his compliment in front of Sam and the other men. "A glass of champagne before we head out?" he asks.

"Please." I murmur far too quickly with a shy smile as he continues to gaze at me. Vincent nods to Sam who heads into the foyer with the three musketeers.

In the great room, Vincent retrieves a bottle of champagne fro mthe fridge.

"Security team?" I ask.

"Close protection. They're under Sam's control. He's trained in that, too." Vincent hands me a champagne flute.

"He's very versatile." I sigh, tasting the champagne. _Mmm, it's so good._

"Yeah. He is." Vincent smiles. "You look lovely, Catherine. Cheers." He raises his glass, and I clink it with mine. The champagne is a pale rose color, and again, it's completely delicious and crisp.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, his eyes heated.

"Fine, thank you." I smile sweetly, giving nothing away, knowing full well he's referring to the silver balls inside me.

He smirks at me. "Here. You're going to need this." he says, handing me a large velvet pouch that was resting on the kitchen island. "Open it." he says between sips of champagne. Intrigued, I reach into the bag and pull out an intricate silver masquerade mask with colbalt blue feathers in a plume crowning the top. "It's a masked ball." he states matter-of-factly.

"I see." The mask is beautiful. A black ribbon is threaded around the edges and exquisite black filagree is etched around the eyes.

"This will show off your beautiful eyes, Catherine."

I grin shyly at him. "Are you wearing one?"

"Of course." he smiles. "They're very liberating in a way." he adds, raising an eyebrow, and he smirks.

_Oh, this is going to be fun!_

He holds out his hand to me and smiles. "Come with me... I want to show you something."

I take his hand and he leads me out into the hallway and to a door beside the stairs. He opens the door, revealing a large room, roughly the same size as his playroom, which must be directly above us. This one is filled with books. _Wow... a library. _Every wall is crammed floor to ceiling with bookcases. In the center of the room is a full-sized billard table illuminated by a long triangular-prism-shaped Tiffany lamp.

"You have a library!" I squeak in awe, overwhelmed with excitement.

"Yeah. The balls room, as JT calls it. The apartment is quite spacious. I realized today, when you mentioned exploring, that I've never given you a tour. We don't have time now, but I thought I'd show you this room, and maybe challenge you to a game of pool in the not-too-distant future." he smiles deviously.

I grin at him, cocking my head to one side. "Bring it on, Keller." I secretly hug myself with glee. Patrick and I bonded over pool. We've been playing for the last three years. I'm ace with a cue. Patrick has been a good teacher. Suddenly I realize I had been staring at him for far too long.

"What?" Vincent asks, amused.

_Oh! I really must stop expression every emotion I feel, the instant I feel it! _I scold myself. "Nothing." I say quickly.

Vincent narrows his eyes. "Well, maybe Dr. Marks can uncover your secrets. You'll meet him this evening."

"The expensive charlatan?" _Holy shit!_

"The one and only. He's dying to meet you." he grins.

* * *

><p>Vincent takes my hand and skims his thumb across my knuckles as we sit in the back of the Audi heading north. I squirm and feel the sensation in my groin. I resist the urge to moan, as Sam is in front of me driving, and he's not even wearing his buds to the iPod, with one of the other security guys whose name I think is Kyle.<p>

I'm beginning to feel a dull, pleasurable ache deep in my belly, caused by the silver balls. Idly, I wonder how long I'll be able to manage without some sort of relief. I cross my legs at the thought. As I do, something that's been niggling me in the back of my mind suddenly surfaces.

"Where did you get the lipstick?" I ask Vincent quietly.

He smirks at me and points toward the front. "Sam." he mouths.

I burst out laughing. "Oh." I stop laughing suddenly as I feel the balls inside me shift. I bite my lip. Vincent smiles at me, his eyes gleaming wickedly. He knows exactly what he's doing, the sexy _beast_ that he is.

"Relax." he breathes. "If it's too much..." his voice trails off, and he gently kisses each knuckle in turn, the softly sucks the tip of my little finger. Now I know he's doing this on purpose. I close my eyes as deep, dark desire unfolds throughout my body. I surrender briefly to the sensation, my muscles clenching deep inside of me. _Sweet Lord!_

When I open my eyes again, Vincent is regarding me closely, a dark prince. It must be the dinner jacket and bow tie, but he looks older, sophisticated, a devastatingly handsome roue with licentious intent. Simply, he takes my breath away. I'm in his sexual thrall, and if I'm to believe him, he's in mine. The thought brings a smile to my face, and his answering grin is blinding.

"So what can we expect at this event?" I ask.

"Oh, the usual stuff." Vincent says breezily.

"It's not usual for me." I remind him.

Vincent smiles fondly and kisses my hand again. "Lots of people flashing their cash. Auction, raffle, dinner, dancing—my mother knows how to throw a party." He bounces his eyebrows and I can't help but giggle at how playful he's being.

* * *

><p>When we arrive, there's a long line of expensive cars heading up the driveway of the Keller's mansion. Long, pale pink paper lanterns hang over the drive, and as we inch closer in the Audi, I can see they're everywhere. In the early evening light, they look magical, as if we're entering an enchanted kingdom. I glance at Vincent—thinking of how suitable this arrangement is for my prince. My childish excitement blooms, eclipsing all other feelings inside me.<p>

"Masks on." Vincent grins, and as he dons his simple black mask, my prince becomes something darker, more sensual.

All I can see of his face is his beautiful chiseled mouth and strong jaw. My heartbeat lurches at the sight of him. I fasten my mask and grin at him, ignoring the hunger I feel deep inside of my body. Sam pulls into the driveway, and a valet opens Vincent's door. Kyle leaps out to open mine.

"Ready?" Vincent sighs, with a nervous grin.

"As I'll ever be." I grin.

He seems to relax and smiles in awe at me. "You really do look beautiful, Catherine." he says, taking my hand, raising it to his lips and kissing the top softly before exiting the car.

A dark green carpet runs along the lawn t one side of the house, leading to the impressive grounds at the rear. Vincent has a protective arm around me, resting his hand on my waist as we follow the green carpet with a steady stream of Seattle's elite dressed in their finery and all wearing a manner of masks, the lanterns lighting the way. Two photographers marshal guests to pose for pictures against the backdrop of an ivy-strewn arbor.

"Mr. Keller!" one of the photographers call. Vincent nods in acknowledgment and pulls me close as we pose quickly for a photo. _How do they know it's him? He's stinking rich and one of the most popular bachelor's in Washington State; that's how!_

"Two photographers?" I ask.

"One is from the Seattle Times; the other is for a souvenir. We'll be able to buy a copy later." he whispers.

_Oh, great... my picture's going to be in the press again. _Alex briefly enters my mind. This is how she found me the last time, posing in a picture with Vincent. The thought is unsettling, though it's comforting that I'm unrecognizable beneath my mask.

At the end of the line, white-suited servers hold trays of glasses brimming with champagne, and I'm grateful when Vincent passes me a glass, effectively distracting me from my dark thoughts. We approach a large white pergola, hung with smaller versions of the paper lanterns.

Beneath it shines a black and white checkered dance floor, surrounded by a low fence with entrances on three sides. At each entrance stand two elaborate ice sculptures of swans. The fourth side of the pergola is occupied by a stage where a string quartet is playing softly, a haunting, ethereal piece I don't recognize. The stage looks set for a big band, but there's no sign of the musicians yet. I figure this must be for later.

Taking my hand, Vincent leads me between swans onto the dance floor where the other guests are congregating, chatting over glasses of champagne.

Toward the shoreline stands an enormous marquee, open on the side nearest to us so I can glimpse the formally arranged tables and chairs. _There are so many!_

"How many people are coming?" I ask Vincent, thrown by the scale of the marquee.

"I think about three hundred. You'll have to ask my mother." He smiles down at me, and maybe it's because I can only see his smile that lights up his face, but my inner goddess drops to her knees and swoons.

"Vincent!" A young woman appears out of the throng and throws her arms around his neck, and immediately I know it's Tori. She's dressed in a sleek, pale blue, full-length chiffon gown with a stunning, delicately detailed Venetian mask to match. _She looks amazing!_ And for a moment, I've never felt so grateful for the dress Vincent has given me.

"Cat! Oh, darling, you look drop-dead gorgeous!" She gives me a quick hug. "You must come and meet my friends. None of them can believe that Vincent finally has a girlfriend."

I shoot a quick glance up at Vincent, who shrugs in a resigned I-know-she's-impossible-I-had-to-live-her-for-years way, and let Tori lead me over to a group of four young women, all expensively attired and impeccably groomed.

Tori makes hasty introductions. Three of them are sweet and kind, but Sarah—or at least I think that's her name—regards me sourly from beneath her ruby red mask.

"Of course, we all thought Vincent was gay." Sarah says snidely, concealing her rancor with a large, fake smile.

Tori pouts at her. "Sarah, behave yourself. It's obvious he has excellent taste in women. He was waiting for the right one to come along, and your pissed because it wasn't you!"

Sarah blushes the same color as her mask, as do I. _Could this be any more umcomfortable?_

"Ladies, if I could claim my date back, please?" Snaking his arm around my waist, Vincent pulls me to his side. All four women sigh, grin and fidget, his dazzling smile doing what it always does. Tori glances at me and rolls her eyes, and I can't help but laugh.

"Lovely to meet you all." I say as he drags me away. "Thank you." I mouth at Vincent when we're a good distance away.

"I saw that Sarah was with Tori. She is one nasty piece of work." he whispers softly into my ear.

"I think she likes you." I mutter dryly.

He shudders. "Well, the feeling is totally not mutual. Come on. Let me introduce you to some people."

I spend the next half hour in a whirlwind of introductions. I meet two Hollywood actors, two more CEOs, and several eminent physicians. _Oh for the love of God! I'll never remember everyone's name!_

Vincent keeps me close at his side, and I'm grateful. Frankly, the wealth, the glamour, and the sheer lavish scale of the event intimidates me. I've never been to anything like this before in my life.

The white-suited servers mover effortlessly through the growing crowd of guests with bottles of champagne, topping off my glass with worrying regularity. _I mustn't drink too much. I mustn't drink too much._ I repeat to myself, but I'm beginning to feel light-headed, and I don't know if it's the champagne, the charged atmosphere of mystery and excitement created by the masks, or the secret silver balls still pushing and pulling deep inside of me. Come to think of it, the dull ache below my waist is becoming impossible to ignore.

* * *

><p>"So you work at SIP?" asks a balding gentleman in a half-bear—<em>or is it dog?-<em>mask. "I heard rumors of a hostile takeover." he adds.

I flush. There's a hostile takeover from a man who has more money than sense and is a stalker par excellence.

"I'm just a lowly assistant, Mr. Eccles. I wouldn't know about these things." I murmur.

Vincent says nothing and smiles blandly at Eccles.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" The master of ceremonies, wearing an impressive black and white harlequin mask, interrupts us. "Please take your seats. Dinner is served."

Vincent takes my hand, and we follow the chattering crowd to the large marquee. The interior is absolutely stunning. Three enormous, shallow chandeliers throw rainbow-colored sparkles over the ivory silk lining of the ceiling and walls. There must be at least thirty tables, and they remind me of the private dining room at the Heathman. Crystal glasses, crisp white linen covering the tables and chairs, and in the center, an exquisite display of pale pink peonies gathered around a silver candelabra. Wrapped in gossamer silk beside it, is a basket of goodies.

Vincent consults the seating plan and leads me to a table in the center. Tori and Mary are already in situ, deep in conversation with a young man I don't know. Mary is wearing a shimmering mint green gown with a Venetian mask to match. She looks radiant, not stressed at all, and she greets me warmly. "Catherine, how delightful to see you again! You look so beautiful, darling!"

"Mother." Vincent greets her stiffly and kisses her on both cheeks.

"Oh, Vincent, so formal!" she scolds him teasingly.

Mary's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Gibson, join us at our table. They seem exuberant and youthful, though it's difficult to tell beneath their matching bronze masks. They're delighted to see Vincent.

"Grandmother, Grandfather. May I introduce to you my girlfriend, Catherine Chandler." Vincent says politely.

Mrs. Gibson is all over me like a rash. "Oh, he's finally found someone! How wonderful and so pretty! Well, I do hope you make an honest man out of him." she gushes, shaking my hand.

_Holy cow... Thank God I'm wearing a mask!_

"Mother, don't embarrass Cat." Mary comes to my rescue.

"Ignore the silly old coot, my dear." Mr. Gibson shakes my hand. "She thinks because she's so old, she has a God-given right to say whatever nonsense pops into that woolly head of hers."

"Cat, this is my date, Blake." Tori chides in shyly, introducing her date. He gives me a wicked grin, and his gray eyes dance with amusement as we shake hands.

"Pleased to meet you, Blake." I smile.

Vincent shakes Blake's hand as he regards him shrewdly. _Don't tell me that poor Tori suffers from her overbearing brother, too?_ I smile at Tori in sympathy.

Lance and Janine, Mary's friends, are the last couple at our table, but there is still no sign of Mr. Michael Keller.

Suddenly, there's the hiss of the microphone, and Mr. Keller's voice booms over the PA system, causing the babble of voices to die down. Michael stands on a small stage at one end of the marquee, wearing an impressive, gold, Punchinello mask.

"Welcome, ladies and gents, to our annual charity ball. I hope that you enjoy what we have laid out for you tonight and that you'll dig deep into your pockets to support the fantastic work that our team does with Coping Together. As you know, it's a cause that is very close to my wife's heart, and mine."

I peek nervously at Vincent, who is staring impassively, I think, at the stage. He glances at me and smirks.

"I'll hand you over now to our master of ceremonies. Please be seated, and enjoy." Michael finishes and polite applause follows, and the babble in the tent starts again. I'm seated between Vincent and his grandfather. I admire the small white place card with fine silver calligraphy that bears my name as a waiter lights the candelabra with a long taper.

Michael joins us, kissing me on both cheeks, surprising me. "Good to see you again, Cat." he murmurs. He really looks very striking in his extraordinary gold mask.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please nominate a table head." the MC calls out.

"Ooo—me, me!" says Tori immediately, bouncing enthusiastically in her seat.

"In the center of the table you will find an envelope." the MC continues. "Would everyone find, beg, borrow, or steal a bill of the highest denomination you can manage, write your name on it, and place it inside the envelope. Table heads, please guard these envelopes carefully. We will need them later."

_Shit! I didn't bring any money with me, and it's a charity event for God's sake!_

Fishing out his wallet, Vincent produces two hundred-dollar bills. "Here." he says.

_What?!_

"I'll pay you back." I whisper.

His mouth twists slightly and I know he's not happy, but he doesn't comment. I sign my name using his fountain pen—it's black, with a white flower motif on the cap—and Tori passes the envelope around.

In front of me I find another card inscribed with silver calligraphy; our Menu.

I scan the list of entrees, meals, and desserts along with a list of different wines and champagnes. _So this is why there are so many dishes at the table. Jeez!_

* * *

><p>Behind me, the sides of the marquee, through which we entered, are being closed, while at the front, two servers pull back the canvas, revealing the sunset over Seattle and Meydenbauer Bay. It's an absolute breathtaking view. The twinkling lights of Seattle in the distance and the orange dusky calm of the bay reflecting the opal sky. <em>Wow... It's so calm and peaceful.<em>

Ten servers, each holding a plate, come to stand in between us. On a silent cue, they serve us our starters in complete synchronization then vanish again. The salmon looks delicious, and I realize that I'm famished.

"Hungry?" Vincent murmurs so only I can hear. I know he's not referring to the food, and the muscles deep in my belly respond.

"Very." I whisper, boldly meeting his gaze, and Vincent's lips part as he inhales.

_Ha! See? Two can play this game!_

Vincent's grandfather engages me in conversation immediately. He's a wonderful old man, so proud of his daughter and three grandchildren. It's weird to think of Vincent as a child. The memory of his burn scars come unbidden to my mind, but I quickly squash it. I don't want to think about it right now, though ironically, it's the reason behind this charity ball.

I wish Tess were here with JT. She would fit in so well. The sheer number of forks and knives laid out before her wouldn't daunt Tess. She would command the table. I imagine her duking it out with Tori over who should be the table head. The thought makes me smile.

Vincent and Lance talk animatedly about a device Vincent's company is developing, inspired by Schumacher's principle: _Small is Beautiful. _It's hard to keep up. Vincent seems intent on empowering impoverished communities all over the world with wind-up technology; devices that don't need electricity or batteries and minimal maintenance.

Watching him in full flow is astonishing. He's a very passionate man; highly commited to improving the lives of the less fortunate. Through his telecommunications company, he's intent on being first to market with a wind-up mobile phone.

_Whoa. I had no idea. _I mean yeah, I knew about his passion about feeding the world, but this...?

Lance seems unable to comprehend Vincent's plan to give the technology away and not patent it. I wonder vaguely how Vincent made all his money if he's so willing to give it all away.

Throughout dinner, a steady stream of men in smartly tailored dinner jackets and dark masks stop by the table, keen to meet Vincent, shake his hand, and exchange pleasantries. He introduces me to some but not others. I'm intrigued to know how and why he makes the distinction.

During one such conversation, Tori leans across and smiles. "Cat, will you help in the auction?"

"Sure. Yes, of course." I respond only too willing.

* * *

><p>By the time dessert is served, night has fallen and I'm really uncomfortable. I need to get rid of the silver balls.<p>

Before I can excuse myself from the table, the MC appears at our table, and with him—_if I'm not mistaken—_is Miss European Pigtails. _What's her name again? Hansel, Gretel... ah, yes... Gretchen. _

She's masked of course, but I know it's her when she continues gazing at Vincent. She blushes and selfishly, I'm beyond pleased that Vincent doesn't acknowledge her at all.

The MC asks for our envelope and with a very practiced and eloquent flourish, asks Mary to pull out the winning bill. It's Blake's, and the silk-wrapped basket is awarded to him. I applaud politely, but I'm finding it impossible to concentrate on any more of the proceedings.

"If you'll excuse me." I murmur to Vincent.

He looks at me intently. "Do you need the powder room?"

I nod.

"I'll show you then." he says darkly and seductive.

When I stand, all the other men around the table stand with me. _Oh, such manners._

"No, Vincent! You're not taking Catherine, I will." Tori is on her feet before Vincent can protest. His jaw tenses, and in that moment I know he's not pleased. Quite frankly, neither am I. I have... _needs._ I shrug apologetically at Vincent, and he sits down quickly, resigned.

* * *

><p>On our return, I feel a little better, though the relief of removing the silver balls has not been as instantaneous as I'd hoped. They're now stashed safely in my clutch purse. <em>Why did I think I could last the whole evening? <em>I'm still yearning_—perhaps I can persuade Vincent to take me to the boathouse later. _I flush at the thought and glance at him as I take my seat. He stares at me, a ghost of a smile crossing his lips.

_Phew! _He's no longer mad at a missed opportunity, though maybe I am. I feel frustrated, irritable even. Vincent squeezes my hand, and we both listen attentively to Michael, who is back on stage talking about Coping Together. Vincent passes me another card—a list of the auction prizes. I scan them quickly.

_Holy shit! _I quickly lay the card down and swallow hard, blinking up at Vincent. "You own property in Aspen?" I hiss. The auction is underway, and I have to keep my voice down.

He nods, surprised at my outburst and irritated, I think. He puts his finger to his lips to silence me.

"Do you have property elsewhere?" I whisper.

He nods again and inclines his head to one side in a warning. The whole room erupts with cheering and applause; one of the prizes has gone for twelve thousand dollars.

"I'll tell you later." Vincent says quietly. "I want to get off with you." he adds sulkily, referring to the whole 'Tori taking me to the bathroom instead of him' thing, where I removed the silver ball things. I pout, realizing that I'm still querulous, ad no doubt, it's the frustrating effect of the balls. My mood darkens after seeing Gabriella on the list of generous donors.

I glance around the marquee to see if I can spot her, but I can't see her telltale hair. Surely Vincent would've warned me if she was invited tonight. I sit and stew, applauding when necessary as each lot on the list is sold for astonishing amounts of money.

The bidding moves to Vincent's place in Aspen and reaches twenty thousand dollars. _Hmm..._

"Going once... Going twice..." the MC calls. And I don't know what possesses me, but I suddenly hear my own voice ringing out clearly over the throng.

"Twenty-four thousand dollars!" I shout.

Every mask at the table turns to me in shocked amazement. The biggest reaction of everyone beside me. I hear his sharp intake of breath and feel his wrath washing over me like a tidal wave.

"Twenty-four thousand dollars to the lovely lady in silver. Going once... Going twice... Sold!" the MC adds in an shocked shout.

_Oh my God! Did I really just do that?! It must be the alcohol. _I've had champagne plus four glasses of four different wines. I glance up at Vincent, who's busy applauding. _Crap! He's going to be so angry, and we've been getting along so well. _My subconscious has finally decided to make an appearance, and she's wearing her Edvard Munch Scream face.

Vincent leans over to me, a large fake smile plastered across his face. He kisses my cheek and then moves closer to whisper in my ear in a very cold, controlled voice, "I don't know whether to worship you at your feet or spank the living shit out of you."

_Oh, I know what I want right now. _I gaze up at him, blinking through my mask. I just wish I could read what's in his eyes.

"I'll take option two, please." I whisper frantically as the applause dies down. His lips part as he inhales sharply. _Oh, that chiseled mouth. _I want it on me... _NOW! _I'm aching for him.

He gives me a radiant sincere smile that leaves me breathless. "Suffering, are you? We'll have to see what we can do about that." he mutters as he runs his fingers along my jaw. His touch resonates deeply inside where that ache has spawned and grown. I want to jump him right here, right now, but instead, we sit back and watch the auction of the next lot.

I can barely sit still. Vincent drapes an arm around my shoulders, his thumb rhythmically stroking my back, sending delicious tingles down my spine. His free hand clasps mine, bringing it to his lips, then letting it rest on his lap.

Slowly and surreptitiously—so I don't realize his game until it's too late—he eases my hand up his leg and against his erection. I gasp, and my eyes dart around the table, but all eyes are fixed on the stage. _Thank heavens for my mask..._

Taking full advantage, I slowly caress him, letting my fingers explore. Vincent keeps his hand over mine, hiding my bold fingers while his thumb skates softly over the nape of my neck. His mouth opens as he gasps softly, and it's the only reaction I can see to my inexperienced touch. But it means so much. He wants me just as bad as I want him right now. Everything south of my navel contracts. This is becoming unbearable. I feel him growing beneath my fingers, and it makes me feel so powerful.

Suddenly, the whole room bursts into applause, and reluctantly I follow as does Vincent, ruining our fun. He turns to me and his lips twitch into a delicious, seductive grin. "Ready?" he mouths over the rapturous cheering.

"God, please." I mouth back.

"Cat!" Tori calls. "It's time!"

_What? No... Not again! _"Time for what?" I mutter.

"The First Dance Auction. Come on!" She stands and holds out her hand. I glance at Vincent who is, I think, scowling at Tori, and I don't know whether to laugh or cry, but it's laughter that wins. I succumb to a cathartic bubble of schoolgirl giggles as we are thwarted once more by the tall, pale-blue powerhouse that is Tori. Vincent peers at me, and after a beat, there's a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"The first dance will be with me, okay? And it won't be on the dance floor." he murmurs lasciviously into my ear. My giggles subside as anticipation fans the flames of my need for him. _Fuck yes! _My inner goddess performs a perfect triple Salchow in her ice skates.

"I look forward to it." I leaned over and placed a soft, chaste kiss on his lips. Glancing around, I realize that our fellow guests at the table are astonished. Of course, they've never seen Vincent with a date before. He smiles broadly at me, and he looks... happy. _Wow..._

"Come on, Cat." Tori nags. Taking her outstretched hand, I follow her onto the stage where ten more young women have assembled, and I note with vague unease that Sarah is one of them.

* * *

><p>"Gentlemen, the highlight of the evening has finally arrived!" the MC booms over the babbly of voices. "The moment you've all been waiting for! These twelve lovely ladies have all agreed to auction their first dance to the highest bidder!"<p>

_Oh no! What have I got myself into?! _I blush from head to toe. I hadn't realized what this meant. _How humiliating!_

"It's for a good cause." Tori hisses at me, sensing my discomfort. "Besides, Vincent will win." She rolls her eyes. "I can't imagine him letting anyone outbid him. He hasn't taken his eyes off you all evening."

_Yes, focus on the good cause, and Vincent is bound to win. _Let's face it, he's not short of a dime or two._ But it means spending more money on you! _My subconscious snarls at me. But I don't _want_ to dance with anyone else—I _can't _dance with anyone else—and it's not spending money on me, he's donating it to the charity. _Like the twenty-four thousand dollars he's already spent?_ My subconscious narrows her eyes.

_Why am I arguing with myself?_

"Now, gentlemen. Pray gather 'round, and take a good look at what could be yours for the first dance. Twelve comely and compliant wenches."

_Jeez! _I feel like I'm in a meat market. I watch, horrified as at least twenty men make their way to the stage area, Vincent included, moving with easy grace between the tables and pusing to say a few hellos on the way. Once the bidders are assembled, the MC begins.

"Ladies and gentlemen, in the tradition of the masquerade, we shall maintain the mystery behind the masks and stick to first names only. First up we have the lovely Jada."

Jada is giggling like a schoolgirl too. Maybe I won't be so out of place. She's dressed head to foot in navy taffeta with a matching mask. Two young men step forward expectantly. _Lucky Jada..._

"Jada speaks fluent Japanese, is a qualified fighter pilot, and an Olympic gymnast... hmm." The MC winks. "Gentlemen, what are your bids?"

"A thousand bucks!" one calls. Very quickly the bidding escalates to five thousand.

"Going once... Going twice... Sold!" the MC declares loudly, "to the gentleman in the mask!" And of course all the men are wearing masks so there are hoots of laughter, applause, and cheering. Jada beams at her purchaser and quickly exits the stage.

"See? This is fun!" whispers Tori. "I hope Vincent wins you, though... We don't want a brawl." she adds.

"Brawl?" I answer horrified.

"Oh yeah. He was very hot-headed when he was younger." she shudders.

_Vincent brawling? Refined, sophisticated, likes-Tudor-choral-music Vincent?_ I just can't see it. And suddenly, the MC distracts me with his next intro... a young woman in red, with long jet-black hair.

"Gentlemen, may I present the wonderful Mariah..."the MC continues in the background.

"How long ago?" I ask in a whisper to Tori.

She glances at me, nonplussed.

"How long ago was Vincent brawling?" I prompt.

"Early teens. Drove my parents crazy, coming home with cut lips and black eyes. He was expelled from two schools. He inflicted some serious damage on his opponents."

I gape at her, shocked.

"Hasn't he told you?" She sighs. "He got quite a bad rep among my friends. He was really persona-non-grata for a few years. But it stopped when he was about fifteen or sixteen." She shrugs.

_Oh fuck! _And yet another piece of the puzzle falls into place.

"So, gentlemen, what is your bids for the gorgeous Jill?" the MC prompts.

"Four thousand dollars!" a deep voice from the left side shouts. Jill squeals in delight.

_Damn... I must have been lost in the conversation about Vincent. _I hadn't realized that yet another woman had been bidded.

Sarah is watching us closely. _Shit, if looks could kill..._

"And now, allow me to introduce to you the beautiful Catherine."

_Fuck, fuck, FUCK! That's me! _I glance nervously at Tori, and she shoos me center stage. Fortunately, I don't fall over, but stand embarrassed as hell on display for everyone to see. When I look at Vincent, he's smirking at me—_the bastard!_

"Looks are very deceiving for this book worm. The beautiful, talented Catherine likes to read, plays six musical instruments, speaks fluent Mandarin, and is keen on yogo..." _Oh, Dear God... this is so humiliating! _"well, gentlemen—"

"Ten thousand dollars." Vincent shouts before the MC can even finish his sentence. I hear Sarah gasp in disbelief from behind me.

_Oh fuck!_

"Fifteen!"

_What? _We all turn as one to a tall, blonde headed, and impeccably dressed man, standing to the left of the stage. I blink at Vincent. _Shit, what will he make of this? _But he's scratching his chin and giving the stranger and ironic smile. It's obvious Vincent knows him. The stranger nods politely at Vincent.

"Well, gentlemen! We have high rollers in the house this evening." The MC's excitement emanates through his harlequin mask as he turns to beam at Vincent. This is a great show, but it's at my expense. I want to wail.

"Twenty." counters Vincent quietly. The babble of the crowd has died. Everyone is staring at me, Vincent, and Mr. Mysterious by the stage.

"Twenty-five." the stranger says.

_For the love of God, this is so embarrassing!_

Vincent stares at him impassively, but he's amused. All eyes are on Vincent now. _What's he going to do? _My heart is lodged into my throat and I feel nauseous.

"One hundred thousand dollars." Vincent says, his voice ringing clear and loud through the marquee.

"What the fuck?!" Sarah hisses audibly behind me, and a general gasp of dismay and amusement ripples through the crowd. The stranger holds his hands up in defeat, laughing, and Vincent smirks at him. From the corner of my eye, I can see Tori bouncing up and down with glee. My subconscious has fallen off the damn stage.

"One hundred thousand dollars for the lovely Catherine! Going once... Going twice..." The MC takes another look towards Stranger Danger, who shakes his head with mock regret and bows chivalrously.

"Sold!" the MC cries out triumphantly.

* * *

><p><em><strong>**So I am splitting this masquerade into two parts because it is sooooo long. Anyways, I know it has been 2 days since I last updated and I just want to say that I'm sorry. I honestly have to say that New Years has officially become a holiday that I hate. Nearly three years ago, I lost my father to a long list of various illnesses that he fought YEARS to overcome. I have discovered 4 days ago that his brother is near the end of his journey of life as well. My uncle has suffered from cirrhosis of the liver for a very long time. He's currently on his death bed and has been given 2 days, maybe 2 weeks tops to live. My heart is aching and breaking ever so slowly and I haven't felt this way since my father's passing. I hope all of you had a great New Year. I'm sorry for all of this venting but it helps to write my feelings. I love you all and I ask that you all just pray for me and my family. Thanks so much for your support! Need to reach me, DM me on twitter TiffanyNida69 or text me (if ya have my number). XOXO!**<strong>_


	34. Chapter 34

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><strong>*WARNING: The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, graphic sexual content, and DOMSUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Extra: I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: Hey guys, I'm feeling slightly better today as I have been praying for peace to set in for days now. Again, I've been writing to escape the reality of my grief and it's truly helping. Thank you all for your patience. This chapter will finish out the masquerade. Enjoy.)**

_Italics represent Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 34-<strong>_

In a deafening round of applause and cheering, Vincent steps forward to take my hand and help me from the stage. He gazes at me with an amused grin as I make my way down. He kisses the back of my hand then tucks it into the crook of his arm, and leads me toward the marquee's exit.

"Who was that?" I ask.

He gazes down at me. "Someone you can meet later. Right now, I want to show you something. We have about thirty minutes until the First Dance Auction finishes. Then we have to be back on the dance floor so that I can enjoy that dance I've paid for."

"A very _expensive_ dance." I mutter disapprovingly.

"I'm sure it'll be worth every penny." he smiles down at me wickedly. _Oh, he has such a glorious smile... _And the ache is back, blossoming in my body.

* * *

><p>We're out on the lawn. I thought we would be heading to the boathouse, but disappointingly we seem to be heading for the dance floor where the big band is now setting up. There are at least twenty musicians, and a few guests are milling about, furtively smoking. But since most of the action is back in the marquee, we don't attract too much attention.<p>

Vincent leads me to the rear of the house and opens a French window leading into a large comfortable sitting room that I've not seen before. He walks through the deserted hall toward the sweeping staircase with its elegant, polished wooden balustrade. Taking my hand from the crook of his arm, he leads me up to the second floor and up another flight of stairs to the third. Opening a white door, he ushers me into one of the bedrooms.

"This was my room." he says quietly, standing by the doors and locking it behind him.

It's large, stark, and sparsely furnished. The walls are white as is the furniture; a spacious double bed, a desk and chair, shelves crammed with books and lined with various trophies for kickboxing by the look of them. The walls are hung with movie posters: The Matrix, Fight Club, The Truman Show, and two framed posters featuring kick boxers. One is named Guiseppe DeNatale—_I've never heard of him._

But what catches my eye is the white pin board above the desk, studded with a myriad of photographs, Mariners pennants, and ticket stubs. It's a slice of young Vincent Keller.

My eyes come back to the magnificent, beautiful man, now standing in the center of the room. He looks at me darkly, brooding and sexy.

"I've never brought a girl in here before." he murmurs.

"Never?" I whisper.

He shakes his head. I swallow convulsively, and the ache that has been bothering me for the last couple of hours is roaring through me now, raw and wanting. Seeing him standing there on the royal blue carpet in the mask... it's beyind erotic. _I want him... Now! Any fucking way I can get him._ I have to resist launching myself at him and ripping his clothes off.

He waltzes over to me slowly. "We don't have long, Catherine. And the way I'm feeling right in this moment, we won't need long. Turn around. Let me get you out of that dress."

I turn and stare at the door, grateful that he's locked it. Bending down he whispers softly in my ear, "Keep the mask on."

I groan as my body clenches in response. He's not even touched me yet. He grasps the top of my dress, his fingers sliding against my skin, and the touch reverberates through my body. In one swift move, he opens the zipper. Holding my dress, he helps me to step out of it, then turns and drapes it artfully over the back of the chair. Removing his jacket, he places it over my dress. He pauses, and stares at me for a moment, drinking me in. I'm in the corset and matching panties, and I revel in his sensuous gaze.

"You know, Catherine." he says softly as he stalks toward me, undoing his bow tie so it hangs from either side of his neck, then undoing the top three buttons of his shirt. "I was really mad when you bought my auction lot. All manner of ideas ran through my head. I had to remind myself that punishment is off the menu. But then you volunteered." He gazes down at me through his mask. "Why did you do that?" he whispers.

"Volunteer? I'm not sure... Frustration, maybe... too much alcohol... worthy cause." I mutter meekly, shrugging. _Maybe to get his attention? _I needed him then... I need him _more _now. The ache is worse, and I know he can soothe it, calm this roaring, salivating beast in me with the beast in him. His mouth presses into a line, and he slowly licks his upper lip. _I want that tongue on me..._

"I vowed to myself that I wouldn't spank you again, even if you begged me."

"Well, I'm begging now." I whisper.

"But then I realized, you're probably very uncomfortable at the moment, and it's not something you're used to." He smirks at me knowingly—_arrogant bastard_—but I don't care because he's absolutely right.

"Yes." I breathe.

"So, there might be a certain... latitude. If I do this, you have to promise me one thing." he murmurs.

"Anything, Vincent."

"You will safe word if you need to, and I will just make love to you, okay?"

I'm panting, frozen by his words. Unable to speak a word.

"Catherine?"

"Yes." I pant. _I need his hands on me..._

He swallows hard, then takes my hand, moving towards the bed. Throwing the duvet aside, he sits down, grabs a pillow, and places it beside him. He gazes up at me, standing beside him and suddenly he tugs hard on my hand so that I fall across his lap. He shifts slightly so my body is resting on the bed, my chest on the pillow, my face to one side. Leaning over, he sweeps my hair over my shoulder and runs his fingers through the plume of feathers on my mask.

"Put your hands behind your back." he murmurs.

_Oh! _He removes his bow tie and uses it to quickly bind my wrists so that my hands are tied behind me, resting in the small of my back.

"You really want this, Catherine?"

I close my eyes. This is the first time since I've met him that I really want this. I need it. "Yes." I whisper.

"Why?" he asks softly as he caresses my behind with his palm. I groan as soon as his hand makes contact with my skin. _I don't know why... You tell me not to over-think!_

After a day like today—arguing about the money, Alex, Mrs. Robinson, the dossier on me, the road-map, this lavish party, the masks, the alcohol, the silver balls, the auction... I truly want this.

"Do I need a reason, Vincent?"

"No, babe. You don't." he says. "I'm just trying to understand you." His left hand curls around my waist, holding me in place as his palm leaves my behind and lands hard, just above the junction of my thighs. "Oh, Vincent... Yes!" the pain from the blow connects directly with the ache in my belly. I moan loudly as he caresses my backside. Then he hits me again, in exactly the same place. I groan again.

"Two." he murmurs. "We'll go with twelve."

_Oh yes! _This feels different then the last time. So carnal, so... necessary. He caresses my behind with his long-fingered hands, and I'm helpless, trussed up and pressed into the mattress at his mercy, and on my own free will. He hits me again, slightly to the side, and again to the other side, then pauses as he slowly peels my panties down and pulls them off. He gently trails his palm across my behind again before continuing my spanking. Each stinging smack takes the edge off my need—or fueling it—I don't know. I surrender myself to the rhythm of the blows, absorbing each one, savoring each one.

"Twelve." he murmurs his voice low and harsh. He caresses my behind again and trails his fingers down toward my sex and slowly sinks two fingers inside me, moving them in a circle, around and around and around, torturing me.

I moan loudly as my body takes over, and I get off, over and over again, convulsing around his fingers. It's so intense, unexpected, and quick.

"That's right, Catherine." he murmurs appreciatively. He unties my wrists, keeping his fingers inside me as I lie panting and spent over him. "I've not finished with you yet, Catherine." he says and shifts without removing his fingers. He eases my knees onto the floor so that I'm leaning over the bed. He kneels behind me and undoes his zipper. He slides his fingers out of me, and I hear the familiar tear of a foil packet.

"Spread 'em." he growls into my ear and I instantly comply. He strokes my behind and eases into me. "This is going to be quick, Catherine." he murmurs and as he grabs my hips, he eases out then slams into me.

"Ah!" I cry out but the fullness is heavenly. He's hitting the bellyache square on, again and again, eradicating it with every deep, sharp, yet sweet thrust. The feeling is mind-blowing; out of this world. _Just what I need._ I push back to meet him, thrust for thrust.

"Cat, no." he grunts, trying to still me, but I want him too damn badly to stop now, so I grind against him, matching his rhythm with each and every thrust.

"Dammit, Catherine!" he hisses as he gets off, and the tortured sound sets me off again, spiraling into a healing orgasm that goes on and on and wrings me out and leaves me spent and breathless. Vincent bends and kisses my shoulder then pulls out of me, he rests his head in the middle of my back, and we lie like this, both kneeling at the bedside..._for what? Seconds? _Minutes even as our breathing calms. My bellyache has vanished and all I feel is a soothing, satisfying serenity.

Vincent stirs and kisses my back. "I believe you owe me a dance, Miss Chandler." he mutters low.

"Hmm." I respond, savoring the absence of achiness and basking in the afterglow.

He sits back on his heels and pulls me off the bed onto his lap. "We don't have long. Come on. Up you go." he kisses my hair and forces me to stand. I grumble but sit back down on the bed and collect my panties from the floor and scoop them on. Lazily, I walk to the chair to retrieve my dress. I note with dispassionate interest that I did not remove my shoes shoes during our illicit tryst. Vincent is tying his bow tie, having finished straightening himself out and the bed.

* * *

><p>As I slip my dress back on, I check out the photographs on the pin board. Vincent as a sullen teen was drop-dead gorgeous even then: with JT and Tori on the ski slopes; on his own in Paris, the Arc de Triomphe serving as a giveaway background; in London; New York; the Grand Canyon; Sydney Opera House; even the Great Wall of China. Master Keller was well traveled at a young age.<p>

There are ticket stubs to various concerts: U2, Metallica, The Verve, Sheryl Crow, the New York Philharmonic performing Prokofiev's Romeo and Juliet—_what an electric mix!_ And in the corner, there's a passport-size photo of a young woman. It's in blakc and white. She looks familiar, but for the life of me, I can't place her. _Not Mrs. Robinson, thank God!_

"Who's this?" I ask.

"No one of consequence." he mutters as he slips on his jacket and straightens his bow tie. "Shall I zip you up?"

"Please. If it's no one of consequence, why is she on your pin board?"

"An oversight on my part. How's my tie?" He raises his chin like a small boy, and I grin and straighten it for him.

"Now it's perfect." I smile.

"Like you." he murmurs as he grabs my hips, pulling me into him as he kisses me passionately. "Feeling better?"

"Much, thank you, Mr. Keller." I bite my lower lip.

"The pleasure was all mine, Miss Chandler." he grins, leaning down and taking my bottom lip in between his teeth, gently tugging it. "Stop biting that lip." he growls.

* * *

><p>The guests are assembling on the dance floor. Vincent grins at me—<em>we've made it just in time<em>—and he leads me onto the checkered floor.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, it's time for the first dance. Mr. and Dr. Keller, are you ready?" the MC announces. Michael nods in agreement. Tori is with someone I don't recognize. _I wonder what happened to Blake?_

"Then we shall begin. Take it away, Jacob!" the MC continues. A young man strolls onto the stage amid warm applause, turns to the band behind him and snaps his fingers. The familiar strains of _'I've Got You Under My Skin' _fill the air.

Vincent smiles down at me, takes me into his arms, and starts to move. _Oh, he dances so well—_he makes it so easy to follow. We grin at each other like idiots as he whirls me around the dance floor.

"I love this song." Vincent murmurs, gazing down at me. "Seems very fitting." He's no longer grinning, but seems very serious.

"You're under my skin, too." I respond. "Or you _were_, in your bedroom." I add in a whisper to his ear.

He purses his lips but he's unable to hide his amusement. "Miss Chandler." he admonishes me teasingly, "I had no idea you could be so crude."

"Neither did I. I think it's all my recent experiences. They've been an education." I smile.

"For the both of us." Vincent is suddenly serious again, and it feels like it's just the two of us and the band. We're in our private bubble; a world where only we exist and nothing around us matters.

* * *

><p>As the song finishes we both applaud. Jacob, the singer, bows graciously and introduces his band.<p>

"May I cut in?" I recognize the man who bid on me at the auction. Vincent grudgingly lets me go, but he's amused too.

"Be my guest. Catherine, this is Evan Marks. Evan, this is Catherine." Vincent says.

_Shit!_

Vincent smirks at me and wanders off to one side of the dance floor.

"How do you do, Catherine?" Dr. Marks says smoothly, and I realize he's British.

"Hi. Hello." I stutter.

The band strikes up another song, and Dr. Marks pulls me into his arms. He's much younger than I had imagined, though I can't see his face. He's wearing a mask similar to Vincent's. He's tall, but not as tall as Vincent, and he doesn't move with Vincent's easy grace.

_What do I say to him? Why is Vincent so fucked-up? Why did he bid on me? _It's the main thing I want to ask him, but I don't want to sound rude.

"I'm glad to finally meet you, Catherine. Are you enjoying yourself?" he asks.

"I was." I whisper.

"Oh. I hope I'm not responsible for your change of heart." He gives me a brief, warm smile that puts me a little more at ease.

"Doctor Marks, you're the shrink. You tell me." I smirk.

He grins. "That's the problem, isn't it? The shrink bit?"

I giggle. "I'm worried what I might reveal, so I'm a little self-conscious and intimidated. And really I only want to ask you about Vincent."

He smiles. "First of all, this is a party so I'm not on duty." he whispers conspiratorially. "And secondly, I really can't talk to you about Vincent. Besides," he teases, "we'd need until Christmas."

I gasp in shock.

"That's a doctor joke, Catherine." he assures me.

I flush, embarrassed, and then suddenly I feel slightly resentful. He's making a joke at Vincent's expense. "You've just confirmed what I've been saying to Vincent... that you're an expensive charlatan." I admonish him.

Dr. Marks snorts with laughter. "You could be onto something there."

"You're British?" I change the subject.

"Yes. Originally from London."

"How did you find yourself here?"

"Happy circumstance, Miss Chandler."

I sigh in a pout. "You don't give much away, do you?"

He smiles. "There's not much to give away. I'm really a very dull person."

"That's very self-deprecating."

"It's a British trait. Part of our national character."

"Oh." my smile disappears.

"And I could accuse you of the same, Catherine."

_What?_

"That I'm a dull person, too, Dr. Marks?" I hiss.

He snorts. "No, Miss Chandler, that you don't give much away."

"There's not much to give away, Dr. Marks." I smile.

"I sincerely doubt that." He unexpectedly frowns.

I flush, but the music finishes and Vincent is once more by my side. Dr. Marks releases me. "It's been a pleasure to meet you, Catherine." Dr. Marks gives me his warm smile again, and I feel that I've passed some kind of hidden test.

"Evan." Vincent nods at him.

"Vincent." Dr. Marks returns his nod, turns on his heels, and disappears through the crowd.

Vincent pulls me into his arms for the next dance.

"He's much younger than I expected." I murmur into him. "And terribly indiscreet."

Vincent cocks his head to one side. "Indiscreet?"

"Oh yes, he told me everything." I tease.

Vincent tenses. "Well, in that case, I'll get your bag. I'm sure you want nothing more to do with me." he says softly, yet sad.

I stop dancing. "He told me nothing!" My voice fills with panic.

Vincent blinks before relief floods his face. He pulls me into his arms again. "Then let's enjoy this dance." He beams down, reassuring me, then spins me around.

_Why would he think that I'd want to leave? _It makes no sense.

We dance for two more numbers, and I realize I need the restroom. "I won't be long." I whisper, kissing him on the cheek.

* * *

><p>As I make my way to the powder room, I remember I have left my purse on the dinner table, so I head down to the marquee. When I enter, it's still lit but quite deserted, except for a couple at the other end, who really ought to get a room! I reach for my bag...<p>

"Catherine?" a soft voice startles me, and I turn to see a woman dressed in a long, tight, black velvet gown. Her mask is unique. It covers her face to her nose but also covers her hair. It's stunning with elaborate gold filigree. "I'm so glad you're on your own." she says softly. "I've been wanting to talk to you all evening."

"I'm sorry. Excuse my manners, but who are you again?" I cross my arms as I say the words.

She pulls the mask from her face and releases her hair. _Shit! It's Mrs. Robinson!_

"I'm sorry I startled you." she adds.

I gape at her. _What the fuck does this woman want?! I don't know what the social conventions are for meeting known molesters of children. _She's smiling sweetly and gesturing for me to sit at the table. And because I'm lacking any sphere of reference, I do as she asks out of stunned politness, grateful that I'm still wearing my mask.

"I'll be brief, Catherine. I know what you think of me... Vincent's told me."

I gaze at her impassively, giving nothing away. But I'm pleased that she knows how I feel—_well, a portion of it at least._ It saves me from telling her, and she's cutting to the chase. Part of me is beyond intrigued as to what she could have to say.

She pauses, glancing over my shoulder. "Sam's watching us." I peek around to see him scanning the tent by the doorway. Kyle is with him. They're looking anywhere but at us. "Look, we don't have long." she says hurriedly. "IT must be obvious to you that Vincent is in love with you. I've never seen him like this, _ever._" She emphasizes the last word.

_What? Loves me? No... why is she telling me this? To reassure me? I just don't understand..._

"He won't tell you because he probably doesn't realize it himself, notwithstanding what I've said to him, but that's Vincent for ya. He's not very attuned to any positive feelings and emotions he may have. He dwells far too much on the negative. But then again, you've probably worked that out on your own." she pauses and I blink at her in disbelief. She sighs as she continues. "Simply, he doesn't think he's worthy."

I'm reeling. _Vincent loves me?_ _He hasn't said it, and this woman has told him that's how he feels? How bizarre..._

A hundred images dance through my head: the iPad, the gliding, flying to see me in Georgia, all his actions, his possessiveness, one hundred thousand dollars for a dance. _Is this love? _And hearing it from this vile woman, having her confirm it for me is, frankly, unwelcome. I'd rather hear it from him. My heart constricts. _He feels unworthy? Why?_

"I've never seen him so happy, and it's obvious that you have feelings for him, too." A brief smile flits across her lips. "That's great, and I wish you both the best of everything. But what I wanted to say is if you hurt him again, I will find you, Catherine. And it won't be pleasant when I do." She stares at me, ice-cold green eyes boring into my skull, trying to get under my mask.

Her threat is so astonishing, so off the wall that an involuntary, disbelieving giggle escapes me. Of all the things she could say to me, this is the least expected.

"You think this is funny, Catherine?" she splutters in dismay. "You didn't see his face last Saturday when you left him."

My face falls and darkens. The thought of Vincent unhappy and hurt is not a palatable one, and last Saturday I had left him. He must have gone to her. The idea makes me queasy. _Why am I sitting here listening to this shit from her of all people?! _I slowly rise, gazing at Gabriella intently. "I'm laughing at your audacity, Mrs. Hernandez. Vincent and I have nothing to do with you. And if I do leave him and you come looking for me, I'll be waiting for you—don't daoubt it. And maybe I'll give you a taste of your own medicine on behalf of the fifteen-year-old child you molested and probably fucked-up even more than he already was."

Her mouth falls open.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have better things to do than waste my time with you." I turn on my heels, adrenaline and anger coursing through my veins.

I stalk towards the entrance of the tent where Sam is standing just as Vincent arrives, looking flustered and worried. "There you are." he mutters, then frowns when he see's Gabriella.

I roll my eyes at him as I stride past him, saying nothing, giving him the opportunity to choose either me or the bitch troll. He makes the right choice.

"Catherine!" he calls. I stop and face him as he catches up with me. "What's wrong?" He gazes down at me, concern etched on his face.

"Why don't you ask your ex?" I hiss acidly.

His mouth twists and his eyes frost. "I'm asking you." he says, his voice soft but with and undertone of something far more menacing.

We stand and glare at each other for several minutes. I sigh. _Okay, I can see that this will end up in a fight if I don't tell him... _"She's threatening to come after me if I hurt you again, and knowing her, she'd probably come at me with a whip." I snap.

Relief flashes across his face, his mouth softening with humor. "Surely the irony of that isn't lost on you?" he says, and I can tell he's trying hard to stifle his amusement.

"This isn't funny, Vincent!"

"No, your right. I'll talk to her." He adopts he serious face, though he's still suppressing his amusement.

"You'll do no such thing!" I hiss, crossing my arms. My anger is spiking again.

He blinks at me, surprised by my outburst.

"Look, I know you're tied up with her financially, forgive the pun, but—" I stop. _What am I asking him to do? Give her up? Stop seeing her? Can I do that? _"I need the restroom." I glare up at him, my mouth set in a grim line.

He sighs and cocks his head to one side. _Could he look any hotter? Is it the mask or just him?_

"Please don't be mad. I didn't know she was here. She said she wasn't coming." His tone is placating as if he's talking to a child. Reaching up he runs his thumb along my pouting bottom lip. "Don't let Gabriella ruin our night, please, Catherine. She's really old news."

_Old being the operative word._ I think uncharitably as he tips my chin up and gently grazes his lips against mine. I sigh in agreement, blinking up at him. He straightens and takes my elbow. "I'll walk you to the powder room so you don't get interrupted again."

He leads me across the lawn toward the luxurious temporary restrooms. Tori said they had been delivered for the occasion, but I had no idea they came in deluxe versions.

"I'll wait here for you." Vincent murmurs.

* * *

><p>When I come out, my mood has moderated. I've decided not to let Mrs. Robinson blight my evening because that's probably what she wants. Vincent is on the phone some distance away and out of earshot of the few people laughing and chatting nearby.<p>

As I get closer, I can hear him. He's very upset. "Why did you change your mind? I thought we'd agreed... Well, leave her alone!... This is the first regular relationship I've ever had, and I don't want you jeopardizing it through some misplaced concern for me... Leave. Her. Alone, I mean it, Gabriella!" He pauses, listening. "No, of course not." He frowns deeply as he says this. Glancing up, he sees me regarding him. "I have to go. Goodnight!" He presses the off button.

I cock my head to one side and raise an eyebrow at him. _Why is he phoning her? _"How's the old news?" I mutter dryly.

"Cranky." he replies sardonically. "Do you want to dance more? Or would you like to go?" He glances at his watch. "The fireworks start in five minutes."

"I love fireworks." I sigh.

"We'll stay and watch them, then." He puts his arms around me and pulls me close. "Don't let her come between us, Catherine. Please."

I sigh deeply. "She cares about you."

"Yes, and I her... as a friend."

"I think it's more than a friendship to her." I whisper, sadly.

His brow furrows as he sighs. "Catherine, Gabriella and I... it's complicated. We have a shared history. But it's just that, _history. _As I've said to you time and time again, she's a good friend. That's all. Please, forget about her." He kisses my forehead, and in the interest of not ruining our night, I let it go. I'm just trying to understand.

* * *

><p>We wander hand in hand back to the dance floor. The band is still in full swing.<p>

"Catherine."

I turn to find Michael standing behind us. "I wondered if you'd do me the honor of the next dance." Michael holds his hand out to me.

Vincent shrugs and smiles, releasing my hand, and I let Michael lead me onto the dance floor. Jacob, the band-leader, launches into '_Come Fly With Me' _and Michael puts his arm around my waist and gently whirls me into the throng.

"I wanted to thank you for the generous contribution to our charity, Catherine." From his tone, I suspect this is his roundabout way of asking whether or not I can afford it.

"Mr. Keller—"

"Call me Michael, please, Cat."

"I'm delighted to be able to contribute. I unexpectedly came into some money. I don't need it. And it's such a worthy cause." I smile.

He smiles back and I seize the moment for some innocent inquiries. _Carpe diem_, my subconscious hisses from behind her hand.

"Vincent told me a little about his past, so I think it's appropriate to support your work." I add, hoping that this might encourage Michael to give me a small insight into the mystery that is his son.

Michael seems surprised. "Did he? That's unusual. You certainly have had a very positive effect on him, Catherine. I don't think I've ever seen him so, so... buoyant."

I flush.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you." he says quickly.

"Well, in my limited experience, he's a very unusual man." I murmur.

"That he is." Michael agrees quietly.

"Vincent's early childhood sounds hideously traumatic, from what he's told me." I shudder.

Michael frowns, and I worry if maybe I've overstepped the mark. "My wife was the doctor on duty when the police brought him in. He was skin and bones, and badly dehydrated. He wouldn't speak." Michael frowns again, lost in the awful memory, despite the uptempo music surrounding us. "In fact, he didn't speak for nearly two years. It was playing the piano that eventually brought him out of himself. Oh, and Tori's arrival, of course." He smiles down at me fondly.

"He plays beautifully. And he's accomplished so much, you both must be so proud of him." I sound distracted. _Holy shit! Two years without speaking?!_

"Immensly so. He's a very determined, very capable, very bright young man. But between you and me, Catherine, it's seeing him like he is this evening—carefree, acting his age—that's the real thrill for his mother and me. We were both commenting on it today. I believe we have_ you_ to thank for that." he continues.

I think I blush to my roots. _What am I supposed to say to this?_

"He's always been such a loner. We never thought we'd see him with anyone. Whatever you're doing, please, by all means, don't stop. We'd like to see him happy." He stops suddenly as if he's overstepped the mark. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to make you uncomfortable."

I shake my head. "I'd like to see him happy, too." I mutter, unsure of what else to say.

"Well, I'm very glad you came this evening. It's been a real pleasure seeing the two of you together." he adds.

As the final strains of the song fade away, Michael releases me and bows, ans I curtsey, mirroring his civility.

"That's enough dancing with old men." Vincent's at my side again.

Michael laughs. "Less of the 'old' son. I've been known to have my moments." Michael winks at me playfully and saunters into the crowd.

"I think my dad likes you." Vincent mutters as he watches his father mingle with the crowd.

"What's not to like?" I smirk, peeking coquettishly up at him through my lashes.

"Good point, well made, Miss Chandler." He pulls me into an embrace as the band starts to play, _'It Had To Be You.'_

"Dance with me." he whispers seductively.

"With pleasure, Mr. Keller." I smile in response, and he sweeps me across the dance floor once more.

* * *

><p>At midnight, we stroll down toward the shore between the marquee and the boathouse where the other party-goers are gathered to watch the fireworks. The MC, back in charge, has permitted the removal of masks, the better to see the display. Vincent has his arm around me, but I'm aware that Sam and Kyle are close by, probably because we're in the crowd now. They're looking anywhere but at the dockside where two pyrotechnicians dressed in black are making their final preparations. Seeing Sam reminds me of Alex. <em>Perhaps she's here. Shit!<em> The thought chills my blood, and I huddle closer to Vincent.

He gazes down at me as pulls me closer. "You okay, babe? Cold?"

"I'm fine." I sigh, glancing quickly behind us and see the other two security guys, whose names I forgot, standing close by. Moving me in front of him, Vincent puts both of his arms around my waist, and clasps my hands into his, entwining our fingers together on my belly.

Suddenly, a stirring classical soundtrack booms over the dock and two rockets soar into the air, exploding with a deafening bang over the bay, lighting it all in a dazzling canopy of sparkling orange and white that's reflected in a glittering shower over the still calm water of the bay. My jaw drops as several more rockets fire into the air and explode in a kaleidoscope of different colors.

Vincent reaches up and cups my face, turning my head to face him and leans down to kiss me passionately as more rockets fly and explode into the sky. In that moment it felt like it was just the two of us standing there. I didn't care who had seen us. All I cared about in that moment was _us_. I turn my body in his arms and fist my hands into his hair to keep him in place. One of his hands are splayed on the small of my back, pulling me into him even more, the other cupping my face.

We kissed for what seemed like an eternity—until our lips were swollen. He pulls back first and I fear that if he lets me go in that moment, I'll fall to the ground. I open my eyes, gazing into his. Green to brown and both of us are panting.

"Oh, wow..." I say breathlessly. He smiles and I smile back. An outburst of applause and cheering takes place and I realize in that moment that the fireworks are finally over.

"Ladies and gentlemen." the MC calls out as the cheers and whistles fade. "Just one note to add at the end of this wonderful evening. Your generosity has raised a total of one million, eight hundred and fifty three thousand dollars!"

Spontaneous applause erupts again, and out on the pontoon, a message lights up in silver streams of sparks forming the words _Thank You From Coping Together, _sparkling and shimmering over the water.

"Oh, Vincent... this was truly amazing." I grin up at him and he bends down to kiss me once more.

"Time to go." he murmurs, a broad smile on his beautiful face, and his words hold so much promise.

Suddenly, I feel extremely exhausted.

He glances up again and Sam is close, the crowd dispersing around us. They don't speak but something passes between them. "Stay with me a moment. Sam wants us to wait while the crowd disperses."

_Oh..._

"I think that firework display probably aged him a hundred years." he adds with a chuckle.

"Doesn't he like fireworks?" I ask.

Vincent gazes down at me fondly and shakes his head but doesn't elaborate. "So, Aspen." he says, and I know he's trying to distract me from something... It works too.

"Oh... I haven't paid for my bid." I gasp.

"You can send a check. I have the address." he smiles.

I sigh. "You were really mad."

"Yes, I was."

I grin. "I blame you and your toys."

"You were quite overcome, Miss Chandler. A most satisfactory outcome if I recall." He smirks down at me. "They are far too potent a device to be left in your innocent hands."

"Worried I might be quite overcome again? Maybe with somebody else?" I raise a brow.

His eyes glitter dangerously. "I hope that's not going to happen." he says, a cool edge to his voice. "But no, Cat. I want all of your pleasure."

_Wow! _"Don't you trust me?" I whisper.

"Implicitly. Now, can I have them back?"

I smirk. "I'll think about it."

He narrows his eyes at me, shaking his head.

There's music once more from the dance floor but it's a DJ playing a thumping dance number. The bass is pounding out a relentless beat.

"Do you want to dance?" he asks.

"I'm really tired, Vincent. I'd like to go, if that's okay." I yawn.

Vincent glances at Sam, who nods, and we set off toward the house, following a couple of drunken guests. I'm grateful when Vincent takes my hand. My feet are beginning to ache from the dizzying height and tight confinement of my shoes.

* * *

><p>Tori comes bounding up to us. "You're not going, are you? The real music's just beginning. Come on, Cat." She grabs my hand.<p>

"Tori." Vincent admonishes her. "Catherine's tired. We're going home. Besides, we have a big day tomorrow."

_We do?_

Tori pouts but surprisingly doesn't push Vincent. "You should come by sometime next week. Maybe we can hit the mall?"

"Sure, Tori." I grin, though in the back of my mind, I'm wondering how since I have to work for a living. She gives me a quick kiss then hugs Vincent fiercely, taking us both by surprise. More astoundingly still, she places her hands directly on the lapels of his jacket, and he just gazes down at her, indulgently.

"I like seeing you this happy." she says sweetly and kisses him on the cheek. "Bye. You guys have fun." She skips off toward her waiting friends, among them is Sarah, who looks even more sour-faced without her mask.

"We'll say goodnight to my parents before we leave." Vincent leads me through a gaggle of guests to Mary and Michael, who wish us fond and warm farewells.

"Please do come again, Catherine. It's been lovely having you here." says Mary kindly.

I must admit, I'm a little overwhelmed by her and Michael's reaction. Fortunately, Mary's parents have retired for the evening, so at least I'm spared their enthusiasm.

Quietly, Vincent and I walk hand in hand to the front of the house where countless cars are lined up and waiting to collect guests. I glance up at my Fifty. He looks happy and relaxed. It's a real pleasure to see him this way, though I suspect it's unusual after such an extraordinary day.

"You warm?" he asks.

"Yes, thank you." I clasp my satin wrap around my shoulders.

"I really enjoyed this evening, Catherine. Thank you."

"Me too, some parts more than others." I grin.

He grins and nods, then his brow creases. "Don't bite your lip, Catherine. You know what it does to me." he warns in a way that makes my blood sing once more.

"What did you mean about a big day tomorrow?" I ask to distract myself.

"Well, Dr. Greene is coming to sort you out. Plus, I have a surprise for you."

"Dr. Greene!" I halt.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I hate condoms." he says quietly. His eyes glint in the soft light of the paper lanterns, gauging my reaction.

"It's _my_ body." I hiss, annoyed that he hasn't asked me.

"It's mine too." he whispers.

I gaze up at him as various guests pass by, ignoring us. He looks so earnest. _Yes, my body is yours... you know it better than I do, it seems._

I reach up and he flinches ever so slightly but stays still. Grasping the corner of his bow tie, I pull it loose, revealing the top button of his shirt. Gently I undo the top three. "You look really hot like this." I whisper. Actually he looks hot all of the time, but really, _really _hot like this.

He smirks at me. "I need to get you home. Come on."

* * *

><p>At the car, Kyle hands me an envelope. Vincent frowns at it and glances at me as Sam looks relieved for some reason. Vincent climbs in and I follow, staring at the envelope.<p>

"It's probably from yet another ensnared heart." Vincent's mouth twists. It's obvious this is an unpleasant concept to him.

Ripping it open, I read it quickly in the dim light. _Holy shit! It's from her! Why won't she leave me alone? Fuck, she's signed it Mrs. Robinson! He told her! __BASTARD!_

"You told her?" I hiss, looking up at him.

"Told who, what?"

"That I call her Mrs. Robinson!" I snap.

"It's from Gabriella?" Vincent's shocked. "This is ridiculous." he grumbles, running a hand through his hair, and I can tell he's irritated. "I'll deal with her tomorrow. Or Monday." he mutters bitterly.

* * *

><p>Vincent wakes me just as we pull up outside of Escala. "You want me to carry you in?" he asks gently. I shake my head sleepily. <em>No way! <em>

As we stand in the elevator, I lean against him, putting my head against his shoulder. Kyle stands in front of us, shifting uncomfortably.

"It's been a long day, eh, Catherine?"

I nod with a yawn.

"Tired?"

I nod.

"You're not very talkitive."

I nod and he grins.

"Come on, babe. I'll put you to bed." He takes my hand as we exit the elevator, but we stop in the foyer when Kyle holds up his hand. In that split second, I'm instantly wide awake. Kyle talks into his sleeve. I had no idea that he was wearing a radio.

"Will do, Sam." he says and turns to face us. "Mr. Keller, the tires on Miss Chandler's Audi have been slashed and paint thrown all over it."

_Oh, Dear God! My car?! Who would do that? _And instantly, I know. _Alex..._. I glance up at Vincent, and he blanches.

"Sam is concerned that the perp may have entered the apartment and may still be there. He wants to make sure." Kyle states like a pro.

"I see." Vincent whispers. "What's Sam's plan?"

"He's coming up in the service elevator with Ryan and Chase. They'll do a sweep then give us the all clear. I'm to wait with you, sir."

"Thank you, Kyle." Vincent tightens his arm around me. "This day just gets better and better." he sighs bitterly, nuzzling my hair. "Listen, I can't stand here and wait. Kyle, take care of Miss Chandler. Don't let her in until you have the all clear. I'm sure Sam is overreacting. She can't get into the apartment."

_What? _"No, Vincent... Please, stay with me." I plead.

Vincent releases me. "Do as you're told, Catherine. Wait here."

_No!_

"Kyle?" Vincent says.

Kyle opens the foyer door to let Vincent enter the apartment then shuts the door behind him and stands in front of it, staring impassively down at me.

_Holy shit... Vincent! _All manner of horrific outcomes run through my mind, but all I can do is stand here and wait.

Kyle talks into his sleeve again. "Sam, Mr. Keller has entered the apartment." He flinches and grabs the earpiece, pulling it out of his ear, presumably receiving some powerful invective from Sam.

_Oh no... if Sam is worried then... NO!_

"Let me go in." I plead with Kyle.

"Sorry, Miss Chandler. This won't take long." Kyle holds both hands up in a defensive gesture. "Sam and the guys are just coming into the apartment now."

_Oh. _I feel so impotent. Standing stock-still, I listen avidly for the slightest sound, but all I hear is my aggravated breathing. It's loud and shallow, my scalp prickles, my mouth is dry, and I feel faint. _Oh God, please, let Vincent be okay! _I pray silently.

I have no idea how much time passes, and still we hear nothing. Surely no sound is a good thing—_right? _No gunshots, no rustling, nothing. Complete silence. So that's a good thing. It has to mean it's good. _Oh no! What if someone knocked him out cold? _I begin pacing around the table in the foyer and examine the paintings on the walls to try and distract myself.

I've never really looked at them before: all figurative paintings, all religious—the Madonna and child, all sixteen of them. _How odd? Vincent isn't religious, is he?_ All of the paintings in the great room are abstracts—_these are so different. _They don't distract me long—_where's Vincent?!_

I stare at Kyle and he watches me impassively.

"What's going on?" I snap.

"No news, Miss Chandler."

Abruptly, the doorknob moves. Kyle spins like a top, and draws out his gun from his shoulder holster. I freeze, then release the breath I had been holding in when I see Vincent.

"All clear." he says, frowning at Kyle, who puts his gun away immediately and steps back to let me in.

"Sam is overreacting." Vincent grumbles as he holds out his hand to me. I stand gaping at him, unable to move, drinking in every little detail: his unruly brown hair, the tightness around his eyes, the tense jaw, the top three buttons of his shirt undone. I think I must have aged ten years.

Vincent frowns at me in concern, his eyes dark. "It's alright, babe." He moves toward me, enveloping me in his arms, and kisses my hair. "Come on, you're tired. Bed."

"I was so worried." I whisper, rejoicing in his embrace and inhaling his sweet, sweet scent with my head against his chest.

"I know. We're all jumpy." he murmurs.

Kyle has disappeared, presumably into the apartment.

"Honestly, your exes are proving to be very challenging, Mr. Keller." I mutter wryly. Vincent relaxes.

"Yeah. They are." he sighs. "Sam and his crew are checking all the closets and cupboards. I don't think she's here." he adds.

"Why would she be here?" _It makes no sense..._

"Exactly." he mutters dryly.

"Could she get in?"

"I don't see how. But Sam is overcautious sometimes." he smiles.

"Have you searched your playroom?" I whisper.

Vincent glances quickly at me, his brow ceasing. "Yes, it's locked. Sam and I checked."

I take a deep, cleansing breath.

"Do you want a drink?" he asks.

"No." Fatigue hits me like a frate train. All I want right now is to go to bed.

"Come on. Let me put you to bed. You look exhausted." Vincent's expression softens. I frown. _Isn't he coming to bed with me?_

* * *

><p>I'm relieved when he leads me into his bedroom. I place my clutch bag on the chest of drawers and open it to empty the contents. I hand Vincent his silver ball thingy's and I grin.<p>

I spy Mrs. Robinson's note and sigh. "Here." I pass it to Vincent. "I don't know if you want to read it or not, but I want to ignore it."

Vincent's jaw tenses as he scans it briefly. "I'm not sure what blanks she can fill in." he says dismissively. "I need to talk to Sam." He gazes down at me. "Here. Let me unzip your dress."

"Are you going to call the cops about the car?" I ask as I turn around, facing the wall.

He sweeps my hair to one shoulder, his fingers softly grazing my naked back, and tugs down my zipper. "No. I don't want the police involved. Alex needs help, not police intervention, and I don't want them here. We just have to double our efforts to find her." He leans down and places a gentle kiss on my shoulder. "Now, go to bed." he orders and then he's gone.

I lie, staring at the ceiling, waiting for Vincent to return. So much has happened today, so much to process. _Where to start? _And suddenly, I find myself drifting as I go back through today's events.

* * *

><p><em><strong>**I know, it was pretty long. Seems Alex is closing in on them. What do you think my lovely non-FSOG readers? What's to come? Thanks for the love and support and definitely the prayers! His condition has not changed and I think I am beginning to find a little peace with it. He's suffering and has suffered for a while so only God can take away his suffering. Again, thank you all! Your like the greatest fanfic fansBATB Nation fans in the whole wide world! Love you all!****_


	35. Chapter 35

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><strong>*WARNING: The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, graphic sexual content, and DOMSUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Extra: I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires. **

_Italics represent Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 35-<strong>_

I wake with a jolt—disorientated._ Have I been asleep?_ Blinking in the dim glow, the hallway casts through the slightly open bedroom door. I notice that Vincent is not with me. _Where is he? _I glance up. Standing at the end of the bed is a shadow. _A woman, maybe? Dressed in black?_ It's difficult to tell.

In my befuddled state, I reach across and switch on the bedside light, turning back to find that no one is there. I shake my head and rub my eyes. _Did I imagine it? Dream it?_

I sit up and look around the room, a vague, insidious unease feeling gripping me. But I'm very much alone. I rub my face. _What time is it? Where's Vincent? _I look at the clock and it says it's two fifteen in the morning.

Climbing groggily out of bed, I set off to hunt him down, disconcerted by my overactive imagination. _I'm seeing things now? Am I that stressed?_ Must be from all of the dramatic events of the previous evening.

The main room is empty, the only light emanating from the three pendulum lamps above the breakfast bar. But his study door is ajar, and I hear him on the phone.

"I don't know why you're calling at this hour. I have nothing to say to you... Well, you can tell me now. You don't have to leave a message."

I stand motionless by the door, eaves-dropping guiltily. _Who is he talking to?_

"No, you listen. I asked you once, and now I'm telling you. Leave her alone. She's nothing to do with you. Do you understand?"

He sounds belligerent and angry. I hesitate to knock.

"I know you do. But I mean it, Gabriella. Leave her the fuck alone... Do I need to put it in triplicate for you? Are you hearing me?... Good. Goodnight." He slams the phone down on the desk.

_Oh shit. _I knock tentively on the door.

"What?" he snarls, and I almost want to run and hide. He sits at his desk with his head in his hands. He glances up, his expression ferocious, but his face softens immediately when he sees it's me. His eyes are wide and cautious. Suddenly, he looks so tired and my heart constricts.

He blinks, and his eyes sweep down my legs and back again. I'm wearing one of his T-shirts. "You should be in satin or silk, Catherine." he breathes. "But even in my T-shirt you look beautiful."

_Oh! _An unexpected compliment. "I miss you. Come to bed." I whisper.

He rises slowly out of the chair still in his white shirt and black dress pants. But now his eyes are shining and full of promise... but I sense a trace of sadness too. He stands in front of me, staring intently, but he's not touching me.

"Do you know what you mean to me?" he murmurs. "If something happened to you, because of me..." His voice trails off, his brow creasing, and the pain that flashes across his face is almost palpable. He looks so vulnerable; his fear very obvious.

"Nothing's going to happen to me." I reassure him, my voice soothing. I reach up and stroke his face, running my fingers across his stubble along his cheek. It's unexpectedly soft. "Your beard grows fast." I whisper, unable to hide the wonder in my voice at this beautiful, fucked-up man standing in front of me.

I trace the line of his bottom lip then trail my fingers down his throat, to the faint smudge of lipstick at the base of his neck. He gazes down at me, still not touching me, his lips parted. I run my index finger along the line, and he closes his eyes. His soft breathing quickens.

My fingers reach the edge of his shirt, and I run them down to the next fastened button. "I'm not going to touch you. I just want to take off your shirt." I whisper.

His eyes open wide, regarding me with alarm. But he doesn't move, and he doesn't stop me. Very slowly I unfasten the button, holding the material away from his skin, and move tentatively down to the next button, repeating the process, slowly, concentrating on what I'm doing.

I don't want to touch him—_well, I do... but I won't. _On the fourth button, the red line reappears and I smile shyly up at him. "Back on home territory." I trace the line with my fingers before undoing the final button. I pull his shirt open and move to his cuffs, removing his black polished stone cufflinks, one at a time.

"Can I take your shirt off?" I ask, my voice low. He nods, eyes still wide as I reach up and pull his shirt over his shoulders. He frees his hands so he's standing in front of me naked from the waist up. With his shirt off, he seems to recover his equilibrium.

He smirks down at me. "What about my pants, Miss Chandler?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"In the bedroom. I want you to come to bed with me." I whisper.

"Do you now?" he sighs. "You are truly insatiable, Miss Chandler."

"I can't seem to think of a reason why." I smile, grabbing his hand, pulling him from his study and leading him to his bedroom. I halt when I notice the change of temperature in the bedroom. It's become really chilly in here.

"You opened the balcony door?" he asks, frowning down at me.

"No." I don't remember doing that. I recall scanning the room when I woke. The door was definitely closed.

Then it hits me. _Shit! _All of the blood drains from my face, and I turn and stare at Vincent as my mouth falls open.

"What?" he snaps, glaring at me.

"When I woke... there was someone in here." I whisper, trembling as fear courses through me. "I thought it was just my imagination."

"What?!" He looks horrified and dashes to the balcony door, peering out, then steps back inside, closing and locking the door behind him. "Are you sure? Who?" he asks, his voice is tight.

"A woman, I think. I'm not sure. It was dark and I I had just woken up." I say in a panicked rush.

"Get dressed." he snarls at me, pacing the room. "Now!"

"My clothes are upstairs." I whimper.

He pulls open one of the drawers in his chest and fishes out a pair of sweatpants. "Put these on." _They are far too big! _But he's not going to be argued with, I know. He swipes a T-shirt and quickly pulls it over his head.

Grabbing the bedside phone, he presses two buttons. "She's still fucking here!" he hisses, slamming down the phone.

Approximately three seconds later, Sam and two of the other members of security burst into the bedroom. Vincent gives them a precis of what has happened.

"How long ago?" Sam demands, staring at me all business-like. He's still wearing his jacket. _Does this man ever sleep?_

"About ten minutes ago." I mutter, and for some reason, I feel guilty.

"She knows the apartment like the back of her hand." Vincent says. "I'm taking Catherine away from here. Alex is hiding here somewhere. Find her, Sam."

Sam nods.

"When is Gail due back?" Vincent adds.

"Tomorrow evening, sir." Sam states.

"She's not to return until this place is secure. Understand?" Vincent snaps at Sam.

"Yes, sir. Will you be going to Bellevue?"

"Yes, I'll call you." Vincent breathes.

"Aren't we all overreacting slightly?" I ask.

Vincent glowers at me. "She may have a gun." he growls.

"Vincent, she was standing at the end of the bed. She could have shot me then, if that's what she truly wanted to do." I murmur.

Vincent pauses for a moment to rein in his temper, I think. In a menacingly soft voice he responds, "I'm not prepared to take the risk. Sam, Catherine needs shoes." he says as he disappears into his closet while the security guy watches me. Sam leaves the room, I assume to grab me a pair of shoes.

Vincent emerges a couple of minutes later with a messenger bag, wearing jeans and his pin-stripped blazer. He drapes a denim jacket around my shoulders. "Come on." He clasps my hand tightly, and I have to practically run to keep up with his long strides into the great room.

"I can't believe she could hide somewhere in here." I mutter, staring out the balcony.

"It's a big place. You haven't seen it all yet." he sighs.

"Why don't you just call her, Vincent? Tell her you want to talk to her?"

"Catherine, she's unstable, and she may have a gun." he says irritably.

"So we just run?" I snap.

"For now, yes."

"And suppose she tries to shoot Sam?"

"Sam knows and understands guns." he says with distaste. "He'll be quicker with a gun than she will."

"Thomas was in the army. He's taught me how to shoot." I murmur.

Vincent raises his eyebrows and for a moment, he looks utterly bemused. "You? With a gun?" he says incredulously.

"Yes." I am affronted. "I can shoot, Mr. Keller, so you'd better beware. It's not just crazy ex-subs you need to worry about."

"I'll bear that in mind, Miss Chandler." he answers dryly, and amused, and it feels good to know that even in this ridiculously tense situation, I can make him smile.

Sam meets us in the foyer and hands me my small suitcase and my black Converse shoes. I'm stunned that he's packed me some clothes. I smile shyly at him with gratitude, and his returning smile is swift and reassuring. Before I can stop myself, I hug him. He's taken by surprise, and when I release him, he's pink in both cheeks.

"Be careful." I murmur.

"Yes, Miss Chandler. he mutters.

Vincent frowns at me and then looks questioningly at Sam, who smiles very slightly and adjusts his tie.

"Let me know where I'm going." Vincent says.

Sam reaches into his jacket, pulls out his wallet, and hands Vincent a credit card. "You might want to use this when you get there."

Vincent nods. "Good thinking."

Ryan joins us. "Kyle and Brian didn't find anything." he says to Sam.

"Accompany Mr. Keller and Miss Chandler to the garage." Sam orders.

* * *

><p>The garage is deserted. <em>Well, it is nearly three in the morning.<em> Vincent ushers me into the passenger seat of the R8, then puts my case and his bag in the trunk at the front of the car. The Audi beside us is a complete mess. Every tire is slashed, white paint is splattered all over it. It's chilling and makes me grateful that Vincent's taking me somewhere else.

"A replacement will be here on Monday." Vincent says bleakly when he's seated beside me.

"How could she have known it was _my_ car?" I whisper.

He glances anxiously at me and sighs. "She had an Audi A3. I buy one for all my submissives. It's one of the safest cars in its class."

_Oh..._ "So, it's not so much a graduation present, then is it?" I hiss.

"Catherine, despite what I had hoped, you've_ never_ been my submissive, so technically it's a graduation present." He pulls out of the parking space and speeds to the exit.

_Despite what he __had__ hoped?_ _Seriously?_ my subconscious shakes her head sadly. This is what we come back to all the time. "Are you still hoping?" I whisper.

The in-car phone buzzes. "Keller." Vincent snaps.

"Fairmont Olympic. In my name." the disembodied voice says.

"Thank you, Sam. And please, be careful." Vincent adds.

Sam pauses. "Yes, sir." he says quietly, and Vincent hangs up.

* * *

><p>The streets of Seattle are deserted, and Vincent roars up Fifth Avenue toward the I-5. Once on the interstate, he floors the gas pedal, heading north. He accelerates so quickly I'm momentarily thrown back into my seat.<p>

I peek up at him. He's in deep thought, radiating a deadly brooding silence. He hasn't answered my question. He glances frequently at the rear-view mirror, and I realize he's checking to make sure we're not being followed. _Perhaps that's why we're on the I-5. I thought the Fairmont was in Seattle?_

I gaze out of the window, trying to rationalize my exhausted, overactive mind. If she'd wanted to hurt me, she had ample opportunity in the bedroom. _So why didn't she? Isn't that what she wants?_

"No. It's not what I hope for. At least, not anymore. I thought that was obvious." Vincent interrupts my introspection, his voice soft. I blink at him, pulling his denim jacket tighter around me and I don't know if the chill is emanating from within me or from outside.

"I worry about that, you know... Worry that I'm not enough." I mutter sadly.

"You're _more_ than enough. For the love of God, Catherine, what do I have to do to prove that to you?"

_Tell me about yourself! Tell me you love me!_

"Why did you think I'd leave when I told you Dr. Marks had told me all there was to know about you?" I ask.

He sighs heavily, closing his eyes for a moment, and for the longest time he doesn't respond. "You can't begin to understand the depths of my depravity, Catherine. And it's not something I want to share with you."

"And you really think I'd leave if I knew?" My voice is high, incredulous. _Doesn't he understand that I love him?_ "Do you truly think so little of me?"

"I know you'll leave." he responds sadly.

"Vincent... I think that's very unlikely. I can't imagine my life without you in it." _Ever..._

"You left me once... I don't want to go there again." he mutters.

"Gabriella said she saw you last Saturday." I whisper quietly.

"No, she didn't." He frowns.

"So, you didn't go see her when I left?"

"No." he snaps, irritated. "I just told you that I didn't, and I don't like to be doubted." he scolds. "I didn't go anywhere last weekend. I sat and made the glider you gave me. Took me forever to do it." he adds quietly.

My heart clenches again. But she said she saw him... _Did she? Or didn't she?_ She has to be lying because Vincent has never lied to me before. _But why?_

"Contrary to what Gabriella thinks, I don't rush to her with all of my problems, Cat. I don't rush to anybody. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not much of a talker." He tightens his hold on the steering wheel.

"Michael told me you didn't talk for two years." I say before I can stop myself.

"Did he now?" Vincent's mouth presses into a hard line.

I sigh, frustrated at myself for bringing the subject up so boldly. "It's kind of my fault. I kind of pumped him for info." I say, staring at my fingers embarrassed.

"So what else did Daddy dearest say?" he growls.

"He said your mom was the doctor who examined you when were brought into the hospital. After you were discovered in your apartment." I murmur.

Vincent's expression remains blank... careful.

"He said learning the piano helped. And Tori." I add.

His lips curl in a fond smile at the mention of her name. After a moment he finally responds. "She was about six months old when she arrived. I was thrilled, JT though, not so much. He'd already had to contend with my arrival. She was perfect." The sweet, sad awe in his voice is affecting. "Less so now, of course." he adds in a mutter, and I recall her successful attempts at the ball to thwart our lascivious intentions. It makes me giggle.

Vincent gives me a sideways glance. "You find that amusing, Miss Chandler?"

"She seemed determined to keep us apart." I smile.

He laughs mirthlessly. "Yeah, she's quite accomplished." He reaches across and squeezes my knee. "But we got there in the end." He smiles then glances in the rearview mirror once more. "I don't think we've been followed." He turns off on I-5 and heads back to central Seattle.

"Can I ask you something about Gabriella?" I whisper as we stop at some traffic light.

He gazes at me warily. "If you insist." he mutters sullenly, but I don't let his irritability deter me.

"You told me ages ago that she loved you in a way you found acceptable. What did that mean exactly?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he asks.

"Not to me." I breathe.

He sighs. "I was out of control. I couldn't bear to be touched... not even now. For a fourteen, fifteen-year-old adolescent boy with hormones raging, it was a difficult time for me. She showed me a way to let off steam."

"Tori said you were a brawler." I whisper.

"Christ... What is it with my family?" he growls. "Actually, it's you." We've stopped at more traffic lights, and he narrows his eyes at me. "You inveigle information out of people, Catherine." He shakes his head in mock disgust.

"Actually, Tori volunteered that info. In fact, she was very forthcoming. She was worried you'd start a brawl in the marquee if you didn't win me at the auction." I mutter indignantly.

"Ah, baby, there was no danger of that. There was no way I was about to let anyone else dance with you." he smiles.

"Liar. You let Dr. Marks." I smirk.

"He's always the exception to the rule." he says.

* * *

><p>Vincent pulls into the impressive, leafy driveway of the Fairmont Olympic Hotel and parks near the front door, beside a quaint stone fountain. "Come on baby." He climbs out of the car and retrieves our luggage. A valet rushes toward us, looking surprised. No doubt at our late arrival.<p>

Vincent tosses him the car keys. "Name of Landon." he says. The valet nods and can't contain his glee as he leaps into the R8 and drives off. Vincent takes my hand and strides into the lobby.

As I stand beside him at the reception desk, I feel utterly, utterly ridiculous. Here I am, in Seattle's most prestigious hotel, dressed in an oversized denim jacket, oversized sweatpants, and an old T-shirt next to this elegant, beautiful Greek God.

_No wonder the receptionist is looking back and forth between us as if the equation doesn't add u. __And of course, she's gawking at MY Fifty Shades! Ugh! _I roll my eyes as she flushes crimson and stutters. _Jeez, even her hands are shaking._

"No, Mrs. Landon and I can manage." Vincent says.

_Mrs. Landon?! But I'm not wearing a ring! _I put my hands behind my back.

"You're in the Cascade Suite, Mr. Landon. Eleventh floor. Our bellboy will help with your bags."

"We're fine." Vincent says curtly. "Where are the elevators?" he adds.

Miss Flushing Crimson explains, and Vincent grasps my hand once more. I glance briefly around the impressive, sumptuous lobby full of overstuffed chairs.

Our suite has two bedrooms, a formal dining room, and even comes with a grand piano. A log fire blazes in the massive main room. _Jeez... this suite is bigger than my apartment!_

"Well, Mrs. Landon. I don't know about you, but I'd really like a drink." Vincent mutters, locking the front door securely.

* * *

><p>In the bedroom, he puts my case and his satchel on the ottoman at the foot of the king-size four-poster bed and leads me by the hand into the main room where the fire is burning brightly. It's a welcome sight. I stand and warm my hands while Vincent fixes us drinks.<p>

"Armagnac?" he sighs.

"Please." I whisper.

After a moment, he joins me by the fire and hands me a crystal brandy glass. "It's been quite a day, huh?" he murmurs.

I nod and his brown eyes gaze at me searchingly, and concerned.

"I'm okay." I whisper in reassurance. "How about you?"

"Well, right now I'd like to finish this drink and if you're not too tired, take you to bed and lose myself in you." he says darkly.

"I think that can be arranged, Mr. Landon." I smile shyly up at him as he shuffles out of his shoes and peels off his socks.

"Mrs. Landon, stop biting your lip." he whispers, groaning.

I blush into my glass. The Armagnac is delicious, leaving a burning warmth in its wake as it glides silkily down my throat. When I glance up at Vincent, he's sipping his brandy, watching me, his eyes dark and hungry.

Suddenly, Vincent seems serious. "You never cease to amaze me, Catherine. After a day like today—or yesterday, rather—you're not whining or running off into the hills screaming. I'm in awe of you. You're so strong."

"You're a very good reason to stay." I murmur. "I told you, Vincent, I'm not going anywhere, no matter what you've done. You very well know how I feel about you."

His mouth twists as if he doubts my words and his brow creases as if what I'm saying is painful for him to hear. _Oh, Vincent... what do I have to do to make you realize that I'm in love with you?_

_Let him beat you. _My subconscious sneers at me. I scowl inwardly at her. "Where do you plan to hang Patrick's photos of me?" I say to try to lighten the mood.

"Well, that depends." His lips twitch. This is obviously a much more palatable topic of conversation for him.

"On what?" I breathe.

"Circumstances." he says mysteriously. "His show's not over yet, so I don't have to decide straight away."

I cock my head to one side and narrow my eyes.

"You can look as sternly as you want, Mrs. Landon. I'm saying nothing." he teases.

"I may torture the truth from you." I smirk.

He raises an eyebrow. "Really, Catherine? I don't think you should make promises you can't fulfil."

_Oh my... is that what he thinks? _I place my glass on the mantelpiece, reach over, and much to Vincent's surprise, take his glass and place it beside mine. "We'll just have to see about that." I murmur.

Very bravely; emboldened by the brandy, no doubt—I take Vincent's hand and pull him toward the bedroom. At the foot of the bed I stop.

Vincent is trying to hide his amusement. "Now that you have me in here, Catherine... What are you going to do to me?" he teases, his voice is low.

"I'm going to start by undressing you. I want to finish what I started earlier." I reach for the lapels on his jacket, careful not to touch him, and he doesn't flinch but he's holding his breath.

Gently, I push his jacket over his shoulders, and his eyes stay on mine, all traces of humor gone as they grow larger, burning into me, wary and—_needful?_ There are so many interpretations of his look. _What is he thinking?_ I place his jacket on the ottoman.

"Now your T-shirt." I whisper and I lift it by the hem, careful not to touch him. He cooperates, raising his arms and backing away, making it easier for me to pull it off. Once it's off, he gazes down at me, intently, wearing just his jeans which hang so provocatively from his hips. The band of his boxer briefs is visible.

My eyes move hungrily up across his taut stomach to the remains of the lipstick line, faded and smudged, then up to his chest. I want nothing more than to run my tongue across his chest to savor his taste.

"Now what?" he whispers, eyes blazing.

"I wish I could kiss you here." I run my finger from hip-bone to hip-bone across his belly.

His lips part as he inhales sharply. "I'm not stopping you." he breathes.

I take his hand. "You'd better lie down then." I murmur and lead him to the side of the bed. He seems bewildered and it occurs to me that perhaps no one has taken the lead with him since... _her. No! Don't go there!_

Lifting the covers, he sits on the edge of the bed, gazing up at me, waiting. His expression wary and serious. I stand before him and slip off his denim jacket and let it drop to the floor, then I shuffle out of his sweatpants.

He rubs his thumb over the tips of his fingers, and I know he's itching to touch me. I can tell, but he suppresses the urge. Taking a deep breath and beyond courageousness, I reach for the hem of my T-shirt and lift it ever so slowly over my head. I now stand before him fully naked. Not once have his eyes left mine, but he swallows and his lips part.

"You're Aphrodite, Catherine." he murmurs. I clasp his face in my hands, tip his head up, and bend to kiss him. He groans low in his throat.

As I place my mouth on his, he grabs my hips, and before I know it, I'm pinned beneath him, his legs forcing mine apart so that he's cradled against my body between my legs. He's kissing me, ravaging my mouth, our tongues entwined. His hand trails from my thigh, over my hip, along my belly to my breast, squeezing, kneading, and pulling enticingly on my nipple.

I moan and tilt my pelvis involuntarily against him, finding a delicious friction against the seam of his fly and his growing erection. He stops kissing me and gazes down at me bemused and breathless. He flexes his hips so his erection presses against my sex. _Oh, yes! Just like that Vincent!_

I close my eyes and whimper a moan, and he does it again, but this time I push back, relishing his answering moan as he kisses me again. He continues the slow delicious torture; rubbing me, rubbing him... getting lost in one another as it is intoxicating to the exclusion of everything else. All my worries are obliterated.

I'm here in this moment with him, my blood singing in my veins, thrumming loudly through my ears, mixed with the sound of our panting groans. I bury my hands in his hair, holding him to my mouth, consuming him, my tongue as avaricious as his. I trail my fingers down his arms, down his lower back to the waistband of his jeans and push my greedy hands inside, urging him on and on; forgetting everything, except us.

"You're going to unman me, Catherine." he whispers suddenly, breaking away from me and kneeling up. He briskly pulls down his jeans and hands me a foil packet. "You want me baby, and I sure as hell want you. You know what to do." he adds.

With anxious, dexterous fingers, I rip open the foil and roll it over him slowly. He grins down at me, his mouth open, eyes misty brown and full of carnal promise. Leaning over me, he rubs his nose against mine, his eyes closed, and deliciously slowly, he enters me.

I grasp his biceps and tilt my chin up, reveling in the exquisitely full feeling of his possesion. He runs his teeth along my chin as he eases back, then slides into me again. So slow... so sweet... so tender. His body pressing down on me, his elbows and his hands on either side of my face.

"You make me forget everything, Catherine. You're the best therapy." he breathes in pants, moving at an achingly, leisurely pace, savoring every inch of me with each thrust.

"Please, Vincent—faster." I murmur, wanting more.

"Oh no, baby. I need this slow." He kisses me sweetly, gently biting my lower lip and absorbing my soft moans.

I move my hands into his hair and surrender myself to his rhythm. Slowly but surely, my body climbs higher and higher and plateaus, then falls hard and fast as I climax around him.

"Oh, Catherine." he breathes as he lets go, my name a benediction on his lips as he finds his release.

His head rests on my belly, his arms wrapped around me. My fingers forage in his unruly hair and we lie like this for I don't know how long. It's so late and I'm so tired, but I just want to enjoy the quiet serene after-glow of making love with Vincent Keller. Yes, that's what we've done... gentle, sweet lovemaking.

He's come a long way, as have I, in such a short time. It's almost too much to absorb. With all the fucked-up stuff, I'm losing sight of his simple, honest journey with me.

"I will never get enough of you, Catherine. Please, don't leave me." he murmurs and kisses my belly.

"I'm not going anywhere, Vincent." I reassure him, combing my fingers through his hair. "Oh, and I seem to remember that I wanted to kiss your belly." I grumble sleepily.

He grins against my skin. "Nothing stopping you now, babe."

"I don't think I can move, I'm so tired."

Vincent sighs and shifts reluctantly, coming to lie beside me with his head on his elbow and dragging the covers over us.

He gazes down at me, his eyes glowing, warm, and even loving. "Sleep now, Cat." He kisses my hair and wraps his arm around me and I instantly drift into a deep sleep.

* * *

><p><em><strong>**Hey guys. Just want to let you know that I will not be updating until either Tuesday, or Wednesday... My uncle passed away around 11 tonight (January 3rd) and I need time right now to think. I went ahead ad posted this chapter because I had it nearly finished when I received the news. Just bare with me, I promise I will try and update soon. Thanks for the prayers and support. I love you all. XOXO!**<strong>_


	36. Chapter 36

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><strong>*WARNING: The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, graphic sexual content, and DOMSUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Extra: I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: Thank you all for the prayers, thoughts and condolences! Truly appreciate them! I hope yal are still with me here. I have a couple of questions to answer...**

***As far as whom was standing at the foot of the bed... well, that will be revealed soon :) **

***Gabriella working with Alex?...That is an absolute no hehe. **

***Gabriella's background is going to slowly be revealed in this story as Vincent slowly tell's Catherine about his life as a child/teen. **

***Yes, Vincent will talk more as the story goes on. **

***As far as touching goes with Vincent... it will be revealed why he can't stand it soon. Just bare with me ;)**

**Thank you all for your kind reviews and questions. I hope my answers have helped; I don't want to give away too much lol. I hope you enjoy this chapter. XOXO!**

* * *

><p><em>Italics represent Catherine's thoughts.<em>

_**-Chapter 36-**_

When I open my eyes, light is filling the room, making me blink to adjust my sight. MY head is fuzzy from lack of sleep. _Where am I? Oh—_the hotel.

"Hi." Vincent murmurs, smiling fondly at me. He's lying beside me, fully dressed, on top of the bed. _Oh Lord, how long has he been lying here staring at me? _Suddenly, I feel incredibly shy and my face heats under his steady gaze.

"Hi." I breathe, grateful that I'm lying on my front. "How long have you been watching me?"

"I could watch you sleep for hours, Catherine. But I've only been here for about five minutes." He leans over and kisses me gently. "Dr. Greene will be here soon."

"Oh." I'd already forgotten about Vincent's inappropriate intervention.

"Did you sleep well?" he inquires mildly. "Certainly seemed that way to me, with all the snoring going on."

_Oh, my playful, teasing Fifty..._

"I do not snore!" I pout petulantly.

He laughs. "Nope, sure don't." he grins at me. The faint line of the red lipstick is still visable around his neck.

"Did you shower?" I ask.

"No. I was waiting for you."

"Oh... okay." I blush. "What time is it anyways?" I add.

"Ten fifteen. I didn't have the heart to wake you earlier." he sighs.

I raise a brow. "You told me you didn't _have_ a heart, Mr. Keller."

He smiles sadly, but doesn't answer. "Breakfast is here. I ordered pancakes and bacon for you. Come on, get up. I'm getting a little lonely out here." He swats my ass sharply, making me squeal as I jump, rising from the bed.

_Hmm... Vincent's version of 'warm affection'._

As I stretch, I'm aware that my body sings in aches and pains all over... no doubt a result from all the sex, dancing, and teetering in expensive high-heeled shoes. I stagger out of bed and make my way into the sumptuously appointed bathroom while going over the events of the previous day in my mind. When I come out, I don on one of the over-fluffy bathrobes that hang on a brass peg in the bathroom.

Alex—_the girl who looks like me—_that's the most startling image my brain conjures for conjecture, that and her eerie presence in Vincent's bedroom. _What did she want? Me? Vincent? To do what? And why the fuck has she wrecked my car?!_

Vincent said I would have another Audi, just like the rest of his ex-submissives. The thought is unwelcome. Since I was so generous with the money he gave me, there's not a lot I can do.

* * *

><p>I wander into the main room of the suite. No sign of Vincent anywhere. I finally locate him in the dining room. I take a seat, grateful for the impressive breakfast laid out before me. Vincent's reading the Sunday papers and drinking coffee, his breakfast already eaten.<p>

He looks up and smiles at me. "Eat up. You're going to need your strength today." he teases.

"And why would that be? Are you going to lock me in the bedroom?" My inner goddess jerks awake suddenly, all disheveled with a just-fucked look.

"As appealing as that sounds, I thought we'd go out today—get some fresh air." he murmurs as I sit down opposite from him.

"Is it safe?" I ask innocently, trying and failing to keep the irony from my voice.

Vincent's face falls and his mouth presses into a thin line. "Where we're going, it is. And it's not a joking matter." he adds sternly, narrowing his eyes at me.

I flush and stare down at my breakfast. I don't feel like being scolded after all the drama and such a late night. I eat my breakfast in silence, feeling petulant. My subconscious is shaking her head at me. Vincent doesn't joke about my safety—_I should know this by now. _I want to roll my eyes at him, but I refrain.

_Okay, so I'm tired and testy this morning... _But I had a long day yesterday and not enough sleep last night, thanks but no thanks to Alex's psycho tendencies. Which reminds me of my damn car that she trashed. _Fucking bitch! _

_And then another thing... Why, oh why does Vincent get to look as fresh as a freaking daisy this morning? Ugh... Life just isn't fair._

There's a knock at the door, which interrupts my scattered thoughts.

"That'll be the good doctor." Vincent grumbles, obviously still smarting from ym irony. He stalks from the table. _Can't we just have a calm, normal morning? _I sigh heavily, leaving half my breakfast, and get up to greet Doctor Depo-Provera.

* * *

><p>We're in the bedroom, and Dr. Greene is staring at me open-mouthed. She's dressed more casually than last time in a pale pink cashmere twin set and black pants, and her fine blonde hair is loose...<p>

"And you just stopped taking it? Just like that?" she asks shocked. _But what did I need them for anyway?_

"Yeah." _Could my voice be any smaller?_

"You know, you could be pregnant." she says matter-of-factly.

_What?! _The world falls away at my feet. My subconscious collapses on the floor retching, and I think I'm going to be sick too. _No!_

"Here. Go pee in this." She's all business today, and taking no prisoners.

Meekly, I accept the small plastic container that she's offered me and wander in a daze into the bathroom. _No...No...No...No...NO FUCKING WAY!... Oh God, please no! __What will Vincent do? What will he think of me if I am? _I go pale. _He'll freak!_

I whisper several silent prayers to myself. _No, please!_

I return and hand Gr. Greene the sample, and she carefully places a small white stick in it. "When did your period start?" she asks.

_How am I supposed to think about such minutiae when all I can do is stare anxiously at the white stick? _"Er... Wednesday? Not the one just gone, the one before that. June first."

"And when did you stop taking the pill?"

I sigh. "Sunday. Last Sunday."

She purses her lips at me. "You should be okay." she says sharply. "I can tell by your expression that an unplanned pregnancy would not be welcoming news. So Medroxyprogesterone is a good idea if you can't remember to take the pill every day." She gives me a stern look, and I quail under her authoritative glare.

Picking up the white stick, she peers at it. "Welp, you're in the clear. You've not ovulated yet, so provided you've been taking proper precautions, you shouldn't be pregnant. Now, let me counsel you about this shot. We discounted it last time because of the side effects, but quite frankly, the side effects of a child are far-reaching and go on for years." She smiles, pleased wit herself and her little joke, but I can't begin to respond... I'm too stunned.

Dr. Greene launches into full disclosure mode about side effects, and I sit paralyzed with relief, not listening to a word she says. I think I'd tolerate any number of strange women standing at the end of my bed rather than confess to Vincent that I might be pregnant.

"Cat!" Dr. Greene snaps. "Let's do this thing." She pulls me out of my reverie, and I willingly roll up my sleeve.

* * *

><p>Vincent closes the door behind her as she leaves, then gazes at me warily. "Everything okay?" he asks.<p>

I nod mutely, causing him to tilt his head to one side, his face tenses with concern.

"Catherine, what is it? What did Dr. Greene say?"

I shake my head. "You're good to go in seven days." I mutter.

"Seven days?" he cocks an eyebrow.

"Yep."

"Dammit, Cat, what's wrong?"

I swallow. "It's nothing to worry about. Please, Vincent, just leave it be."

Vincent looms in front of me. He grasps my chin, tipping my head back, and stares emphatically into my eyes, trying to decipher my panic. "Tell me." he snaps insistently.

"There's nothing to tell. I'd like to get dressed." I pull my chin out of grip, and out of reach.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, frowning at me. "Let's just shower." he says eventually.

"Of course." I mutter, distracted, and his mouth twists. "Come on." he says sulkily, clasping my hand firmly. He stalks toward the bathroom as I trail behind him. I'm not the only one in a bad mood, it seems.

* * *

><p>Firing up the shower, Vincent quickly strips before turning to me. "I don't know what's upset you, or if you're just bad-tempered through lack of sleep." he says while unfastening my robe. "But I want you to tell me. My imagination is running away with me, and I don't like it." he adds.<p>

I roll my eyes at him, and he glares back at me, narrowing his eyes. _Shit! Okay... here goes. _"Dr. Greene scolded me about missing the pill. She said I could be pregnant."

"What?" He pales, and his hands freeze as he gazes at me, suddenly ashen.

"But I'm not. She did a test. It was a shock, that's all. I can't believe I was that stupid." I whisper the last sentence.

He visibly relaxes. "You're sure you're not?"

"Yes." I snap.

He blows out a deep breath. "Good. Yes, I can see that news like that would be very upsetting."

I frown... _upsetting? _"I was more worried about your reaction." I murmur.

He furrows his brow at me, puzzled. "My reaction? Well, naturally I'm relieved... it would be the height of carelessness and bad manners to just knock you up."

"Then maybe we should abstain." I snap, crossing my arms.

He gazes at me for a moment, bewildered, as if I'm some kind of science experiment. "You're in a bad mood this morning."

"It was just a shock, that's all." I repeat petulantly.

Clasping the lapels of my robe, he pulls me into a warm embrace, kisses the top of my head, and presses my head against his chest. _Oh, if I could just nuzzle him!_

"Cat, I'm not used to this." he murmurs. "My natural inclination is to beat it out of you but I seriously doubt you want that."

"No, I don't. This helps." I hug Vincent tighter, and we stand for an age in a strange embrace, Vincent naked and me wrapped in a robe. I'm once again floored by his honesty. He knows nothing about relationships, and honestly, neither do I—_except what I've learned from him. _He's asked for faith and patience; maybe I should so the same.

"Let's shower." Vincent whispers, releasing me.

Stepping back, he peels me out of my robe and I follow him into the cascading water, holding my face up to the torrent. There's room for both of us under the gargantuan shower-head. Vincent reaches for the shampoo and starts washing his hair. He hands it to me and I follow suit. _Oh, this feels good. _Closing my eyes, I succumb to the cleansing, warming water.

As I rinse off the shampoo, I feel his hands on me, lathering my body: my shoulders first, then my arms, under my arms, my breasts, and my back. Gently, he turns me around so that my back is facing him, and pulls me against him as he continues down my body: starting with my belly, then he trails his skilled fingers between my legs—_hmm—_then my behind. _Oh, that feels good and so intimate. _He turns me around to face him once more.

"Here." he says quietly, handing me the bodywash. "I want you to wash off the remains of the lipstick."

My eyes open in a flurry and dart quickly to his. He's staring at me intently, soaking wet and beautiful. His glorious, bright brown eyes are giving nothing away.

"Don't stray far from the line." he mutters his plea, tightly.

"Okay." I breathe, trying to absorb the enormity of what he's just asked me to do; to touch him on the edge of the forbidden zone.

I squeeze a small amount of soap onto my hand, rub my hands together to create a lather, then place them on his shoulders and gently wash away the line of lipstick on each side. He stills and closes his eyes, his face impassive, but he's breathing rapidly, and I know it's not lust, but full-blown fear. It cuts me to the quick.

With trembling fingers, I carefully follow the line down the side of his chest, soaping and rubbing softly, and he swallows hard, his jaw tense as if his teeth are clenched. _Oh, Vincent! _My heart constricts and my throat tightens and burns. _Oh no, I'm not going to cry..._

I stop to add more soap to my hand and feel him relax in front of me. I can't look up at him, else I might burst into tears. I just can't bear to see his pain. It's too much. I swallow hard and sigh heavily. "Ready?" I murmur and the tension is loud and clear in my voice.

"Yeah." he whispers, his voice husky and laced with fear.

Gently, I place my hands on either side of his chest and he freezes again. _It's too much!_ I'm overwhelmed by his trust in me; overwhelmed by his fear, by the damage done to this beautiful, fallen, flawed man. Tears pool in my eyes and spill down my face, lost in the water from the shower. _Oh, Vincent! Who did this to you?!_

His diaphragm moves rapidly with each shallow breath. His body is rigid, tension radiating off him in waves as my hands move along the line, erasing it. _If only I could erase your pain. I would in a heartbeat... I'd do anything! _And I want nothing more than to kiss away every single scar I see... to just kiss away those hideous years of neglect. But I know I can't, and my tears fall faster, unbidden even, down my cheeks.

"No. Please, Cat... don't cry." he murmurs, his voice anguished as he wraps me tightly in his arms. "Please don't cry for me." And I burst into full-blown sobs, burying my face against his neck as I think of a little boy lost in a sea of fear and pain, frightened, neglected, abused—hurt beyond all endurance.

Pulling away, he clasps my head with both hands, tilting it back, and leans down to kiss away my tears as they fall. "Don't cry, Catherine. Please." he murmurs against my mouth. "It was a long time ago. I'm just not used to this yet—touching—even though I'm aching for you to touch me in every possible way, I just can't bear it right now. It's too much. Please, don't cry for me."

"I itch to touch you everywhere, Vincent. It's hard for me too. More than you'll ever know." I sigh. "To see you like this... so hurt and afraid, Vincent... it wounds me deeply because I love you."

He runs his thumb across my bottom lip. "I know. I know." he whispers.

"You're very easy to love. Don't you see that, Vincent?"

"No, babe. I don't."

"Well, you are. And I do, I love you deeply. And so does your family... Gabriella even, and Alex—they have a strange way of showing it—but they do. You are more than worthy... You're worthy of love."

"Stop it." He puts his finger over my lips and shakes his head, and agonized expression on his face. "I can't hear this... I don't deserve to. Don't you get it? I'm nothing, Catherine. I'm a husk of a man. I don't have a heart."

"That's so not true! You have the biggest heart I know... and I want it, all of it. You're a good man, Vincent. A really good man. Don't ever doubt that! Look at what you've done... what you've achieved." I sob. "Look what you've done for me... what you've turned your back on, for me." I whisper. "I know... I know how you feel about me."

He gazes down at me, his eyes wide and panicked and all we can hear is the steady stream of water as it flows over us in the shower. "You love me, I know you do." I add in a whisper.

His eyes widen further and his mouth opens. He takes a huge breath as if winded. He looks tortured; vulnerable. "Yes," he whispers. "I do."

I can't contain my jubilation. My subconscious gapes at me, open-mouthed, in stunned silence, and I wear a face-splitting grin as I gaze longingly up into Vincent's wide, tortured eyes.

His soft, sweet confession calls to me on some deep, elemental level, as if he's seeking absolution; his three small words are my manna from heaven. Tears prick my eyes once more. _Yes, you do... __I know you do..._

It's such a liberating realization as if a crushing millstone has been tossed aside. This beautiful, fucked-up man, whom I once thought of as my romantic hero—strong, solitary, mysterious—posses all these traits, but he's also fragile and alienated and full of self-loathing. My heart swells with joy but also in pain for his suffering. And I know in this moment that my heart is big enough for the both of us... I hope that it's big enough for the both of us.

I reach up to clasp his dear, dear handsome face and I kiss him gently, pouring all the love I feel for him into this one sweet connection. I want to devour him beneath the hot cascading water.

Vincent groans and encircles me in his arms, holding me as if I'm the air he needs to breathe. "Oh, Catherine," he whispers hoarsely, "I want you, but not here." he adds.

"So take me where you need me. I'm all yours, Vincent." I murmur fervently into his mouth.

* * *

><p>He switches off the shower and takes my hand, leading me out and enfolding me in my bath robe. Grabbing a towel, he wraps it around his waist, then takes a smaller one and begins to gently dry my hair. When he's satisfied, he swathes the towel around my head so that in the large mirror over the sink, I look like I'm wearing a veil.<p>

He's standing behind me and our eyes meet in the mirror, smoldering, golden brown to bright emerald green, and it gives me an idea. "Can I reciprocate?" I ask.

He nods, though his brow creases. I reach for another towel from the plethora of fluffy towels stacked beside the vanity, and standing before him on my tiptoes, I start to dry his hair. He bends forward, making the process easier, and as I catch the occasional glimpse of his face beneath the towel, I see he's grinning at me like a small boy.

"It's been a long time since anyone did this to me. A very long time." he murmurs, but then he frowns. "In fact, I don't think anyone's ever dried my hair." he adds.

"Surely Mary did? Dried your hair when you were young?" I ask.

He shakes his head, hampering my progress. "Nope. She respected my boundaries from day one, even though it was painful for her. I was very self-sufficient as a child." he says quietly.

I feel a swift kick in the ribs as I think of a small golden brown-headed child, looking after himself because no one else cares. The thought is sickeningly sad. But I don't want my melancholy to hijack this blossoming intimacy.

"Well, I'm truly honored." I gently tease him.

"That you are, Miss Chandler. Or maybe it's me who is honored." he smiles.

"That goes without saying, Mr. Keller." I respond tartly.

I finish with his hair, reach for another small towel, and move around to stand behind him. Our eyes meet again in the mirror, and his watchful, questioning look prompts me to speak. "Can I try something?" After a moment, he nods.

Warily, and very gently, I run the soft cloth down his left arm, soaking up the water that has beaded on his skin. Glancing up, I check his expression in the mirror. He blinks at me, his eyes burning into mine. I lean forward and kiss his bicep, and his lips part infinitesimally. I dry his other arm in a similar fashion, trailing kisses around his bicep, and a small smile plays on his lips. Carefully, I wipe his back beneath the faint lipstick line, which is still visible. I hadn't gotten around to washing his back.

"Whole back," he says quietly, "with the towel." He takes a sharp breath and screws his eyes closed as I briskly dry him, careful to touch him _only_ with the towel. He has such an attractive back—broad, sculptured shoulders, all the small muscles clearly defined. He really looks after himself. The beautiful sight is marred only by his scars.

With difficulty, I ignore them and suppress my overwhelming urge to kiss each and every one of them,. When I finish, he exhales, and I lean forward and reward him with a kiss on his shoulder. Putting my arms around him, I dry his stomach. Our eyes meet once more in the mirror, his expression amused but wary, too.

"Hold this." I hand him a smaller face towel, and he gives me a bemused frown. "Remember in Georgia? You made me touch myself using your hands..."

His face darkens, but I ignore his reaction and put my arms around him. Gazing at us both in the mirror—his beauty, his nakedness, and me with my covered hair—we look almost Biblical, as if from an Old Testament baroque painting.

I reach for his hand, which he willingly entrusts to me, and I guide it up to his chest to dry it, sweeping the towel slowly, awkwardly across his body. Once, twice... then again. He's completely immobilized, rigid with tension, except for his eyes, which follow my hand, clasped around his.

My subconscious looks on with approval, her normally pursed mouth, smiling, and I'm now the supreme puppet master. His anxiety ripples off his back in waves, but he maintains eye contact with me, though his eyes are about 4 shades darker, more deadly even. _Showing their secrets maybe? __Is this a place I want to go? Do I want to confront his demons?_

"I think you're dry now." I whisper as I drop my hand, gazing into the brown depths of his eyes in the mirror.

His breathing is accelerated, lips parted. "Catherine, I need you." he whispers.

"I need you, too." I mutter. And as I say the words, I'm struck at how true they are. I can't imagine being without Vincent, ever.

"Let me love you, then." he says hoarsely.

"Yes. Love me, Vincent." I answer, and turning, he hauls me into his arms, his lips seeking mine, beseeching me, worshipping me, cherishing me... _loving me! __Yes! Vincent Keller loves me! This dominant Greek God of a man whose obsessed with control and is master of his universe, loves me! And_ there is no denying it, I can feel it as he touches me; makes love to me, taste it when he kisses me, and now, more importantly, he's said it...

_Yes, I do... _and I you, my Fifty Shades... I will always love you.

* * *

><p><em><strong>**Hey guys. I'm back. I know it's short, but I'm not feeling too well today. I hope you all enjoyed this. I'm probably going to update again Thursday or Friday. I want to thank you all again for your kinds words and prayers after my loss. I feel a lot better about it today and I know he's in a better place where he will no longer suffer. I love you all and I promise that I will update soon. XOXO!**<strong>_


	37. Chapter 37

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><strong>*WARNING: The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, graphic sexual content, and DOMSUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Extra: I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: Thanks for the awesome reviews! I am doing much better now and I have to say thanks for your patience and prayers during this difficult time. I am so thankful and proud to have such awesome fans/friends/FANmily in my life. Anyways, just because Vincent has revealed his true feelings doesn't mean this story is over lol. It actually means more haha. We still have A LOT of drama to get through before we near the end. As I have said many times before, and my FSOG readers KNOW THIS... there will be A LOT of chapters lol. I hope you enjoy this chapter...and I do hope nobody gets sea sick O.o lol.)**

_Italics represent Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 37-<strong>_

Vincent trails his fingers up and down my spine as we gaze at each other while we bask in the aftershocks of making love again. We lie together, Vincent on his side, and I am on my front, hugging my pillow and treasuring his tender touch. I know that right now he needs to touch me. I'm a balm for him, a source of solace, and how could I deny him that? I feel exactly the same about him.

"So the infamous CEO of Keller Enterprises Holdings, INC can be gentle." I murmur with a grin.

"Hmm... so it would seem, Miss Chandler."

I sigh. "You know, you weren't particularly gentle the first time we... um, did this."

"No?" He smirks. "When I robbed you of your virtue?"

I narrow my eyes at him. "Technically, you didn't rob me of anything." I mutter haughtly. _Jeez, I'm not a helpless maiden! _"In fact, I clearly remember me offering my virtue pretty freely and willingly. I wanted you just as bad as you wanted me, and if I remember correctly, I rather enjoyed myself." I smile shyly at him, biting my lip on purpose.

"So did I, Miss Chandler... We aim to please." he drawls and his face softens, more serious now. "And it also means that you're mine completely." All trace of humor has vanished as he gazes at me.

"Of course I am." I murmur back at him. "I wanted to ask you something."

He sighs. "Go ahead."

"Your biological father... do you know who he was?" This question has been bugging me and I must admit, I feel relieved that I asked.

His brow creases, and he shakes his head. "I have no idea. It sure as hell wasn't the savage whom was my mother's pimp, which is good."

_Hmm... _"How do you know?" I ask.

"Something my dad... Michael, had said to me." he whispers. I gaze at my Fifty expectantly, waiting. He smirks at me. "Always hungry for information, Catherine." he sighs, shaking his head. "The pimp was the one who discovered the crack whore's body and phoned it in to the authorities. Took him four days to make the discovery though. He shut the door when he left... left me with her... her body." His eyes cloud at the memory.

I inhale sharply. _Poor baby boy—_the horror is too grim to contemplate.

"Police interviewed him later. He denied flat out that I was anything to do with him, and Michael said I looked nothing like him."

"Do you even remember what he looked like?"

"Catherine, this isn't a part of my life that I like to revisit; and I don't visit it very often. But to answer your question... yes, I remember what he looked like. Honestly, I'll never forget him." Vincent's face darkens and hardens, becoming more angular. His eyes frosting with anger. "Can we talk about something else?" he sighs angrily.

"I'm sorry, Vincent." I whisper. "I didn't mean to upset you."

He shakes his head. "It's old news, Cat. Not something I want to really think about."

"So, what's the surprise, then?" I need to change the subject before he goes all Fifty on me. His expression lightens immediately.

"Can you face going out for some fresh air? I want to show you something." he murmurs.

"Of course." I smile, marveling at how quickly he turns; mercurial as ever. He grins at me with his boyish, carefree, I'm-only-twenty-seven smile, and my heart lurches into my mouth._ So the surprise is something close to his heart, I can tell._

He swats me playfully on my ass. "Get dressed. Jeans will be good. I hope Sam's packed some for you." He rises and pulls on his boxer briefs.

_Oh... I could just sit here all day, watching him wander around the room...naked. _I sigh. My inner goddess agrees, swooning as she ogles from her chaise lounge.

"Up." he scolds, bossy as ever. I gaze at him, grinning.

"I'm just admiring the view." I smack my lips, playfully.

He rolls his eyes at me and smirks.

* * *

><p>As we dress, I notice that we move with synchronization of two people who know each other well. Each watchful and acutely aware of the other, exchanging the occasional shy smile and sweet touch. And it dawns on me that this is just as new for him as it is for me.<p>

"Dry your hair." Vincent orders once we're dressed.

I scoff. "Domineering as ever." I smirk at him, and he leans down to kiss me softly.

"That's never going to change, babe. I just don't want you getting sick." His voice is soft.

I roll my eyes at him, and his mouth twists in amusement. "You know, my palms still twitch, Miss Chandler."

"I'm glad to hear it, Mr. Keller. I was beginning to think that you had lost your edge." I retort.

"I could very easily demonstrate that, that is not the case at all, Miss Chandler; should you so wish." Vincent drags a large, dark green, cable-knit sweater out of his bag and drapes it artfully over his shoulders. With his black T-shirt and blue jeans, his artfully rumpled just-fucked hair that slightly dangles over his forehead, and now _this... _he looks as if he's stepped out of a high-end glossy magazine.

_No one should look this damn sexy!_ And I don't know if it's the momentary distraction of his sheer perfect looks or the knowledge that he loves me. I also realize that his threats no longer fill me with dread. _This is my Fifty Shades; this is the way he is._

As I reach for the hairdryer, a tangible ray of hope blossoms. We will find a _middle _way, we just have to recognize each other's needs and accommodate them. _I can do that, surely?_

I gaze at myself in the dresser mirror. I'm wearing the pale blue shirt Sam bought and had packed for me. My hair is a mess though, so I pull it up into a messy bun. My face is flushed, my lips still swollen and I touch them, closing my eyes as I do, remembering Vincent's searing kisses, and I can't help a small smile as I stare at myself.

_Yes, I do... _he said.

"Where exactly are we going?" I ask as we wait in the lobby for the parking valet. Vincent taps the side of his nose and winks at me conspiratorially, looking like he's desperately trying to contain his glee. Frankly, it's very un-Fifty.

He was like this when we went gliding—_perhaps that's what we're doing? _I beam back at him. He stares down his nose at me in that superior way he has with his lopsided grin. Leaning down, he kisses me gently. "Do you have any idea how happy you make me feel?" he murmurs.

"Yes... I know exactly how much, because you do the same for me." I smile. The valet zooms up in Vincent's car, wearing a face-splitting grin. _Jeez, everyone is just so happy today..._

"Great car, sir." the valet mumbles as he hands over the keys. Vincent winks and gives him an obscenely large tip. I frown at him. _Honestly?_

* * *

><p>As we cruise through the traffic, Vincent's deep in thought. A young woman's voice comes over the loudspeakers: it has a beautiful, rich, mellow timbre, and I lose myself in her sad, soulful voice.<p>

"I need to make a detour. It shouldn't take long." he says absentmindedly, distracting me from the song.

_Oh? Why? _I'm more intrigued to see the surprise. My inner goddess is bouncing about like a five-year-old. "Sure." I mutter. Something is surely amiss. Suddenly, he looks grimly determined.

He pulls into the parking lot of a large car dealership, stops the car, and turns to face me. "We're going to get you a new car." he smirks. I gape at him. _Seriously? Now? On a Sunday? What the hell?! _

And I realize that we're at a Saab dealership. "Not an Audi?" is stupidly, the only thing I can think of to say, and God bless his heart because he actually flushes. _Holy cow! Vincent? Embarrassed? _This is a first.

"I thought you might like something different." he mutters. He's almost squirming.

_Oh pa-leese! This is too valuable an opportunity not to tease him. _I smirk. "A Saab?"

"Yeah. A 9-3 to be exact." he smiles with a sigh. "Come on." he adds, stepping out of the car.

I follow suit and close my door. "What is it with you and foreign cars?"

"The Germans and the Swedes make the safest cars in the world, Catherine."

_Do they? _"I thought you'd already ordered me another Audi A3?" I smirk. _Oh, this is hilarious! _I bite my lip to suppress my laugh.

He gives me a darkly amused look. "I can cancel that. And besides, I owe you a graduation present." he says softly, clasping my hand, webbing our fingers together.

"Vincent, you really don't have to do this." I sigh.

"Yes, I do. Please." His tone says he's not to trifled with, so I resign myself o my fate. _A Saab? Do I even want a Saab? I actually quite liked the Audi Submissive Special... _It was quite nifty. _Of course, now it's under a ton of white paint... _I shudder. And the thought reminds me that she's still out there.

We wander into the showroom. Bill Anderson, the salesman, is all over Fifty like a cheap suit. He can smell a sale, obviously. Weirdly, his accent sounds mid-Atlantic, maybe even British. Who knows... it's really difficult to tell.

"A Saab, sir? Pre-owned?" Bill rubs his hands with glee.

"New." Vincent's lips set into a hard line.

_New?!_

"Did you have a model in mind, sir?" And he's smarmy too.

"9-3 2.0T Sport Sedan." Vincent says naturally. _Damn, he sure knows his cars._

"An excellent choice, sir."

"What color, Catherine?" Vincent inclines his head.

"Er... black?" I shrug. "You really don't need to do this." I add.

He frowns. "Black's not easily seen at night."

_Oh, for heaven's sake! _I resist the temptation to roll my eyes. "_You_ have a black car."

He scowls at me.

_Ugh! _"Bright canary yellow then." I shrug.

Vincent makes a face... _canary yellow is obviously not his thing. _"What color would _Sir _like me to have?" I smirk, nearly bursting into full-blown laughter.

He narrows his eyes at me. "Silver or white." he says low.

"Silver then." I sigh. "Vincent, you know I'll take the Audi." I add, chastened by my thoughts.

Bill pales, sensing he's losing a sale. "Perhaps you'd like the convertible ma'am?" he asks, clapping his hands together with enthusiasm.

My subconscious is cringing in disgust, mortified by the whole buying-a-car business, but my inner goddess tackles her to the floor. _Convertible? Drool!_

Vincent frowns and peers at me. "Convertible?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. I flush. It's like he has a direct hotline to my inner goddess, which of course, he truly has. It's most inconvenient at times. I stare down at my hands. Vincent turns to Bill. "What are the safety stats on the convertible?"

Bill, sensing Vincent's vulnerability, heads in for the kill, reeling off all manner of statistics. _Of course, Vincent wants me safe._ It's a religion with him, and like the zealot he is, he listens intently to Bill's well-honed patter. And I smile, because I know in that moment that Vincent truly does care about me.

_Yes, I do... _I rememberhis whispered, chocked words from this morning, and a melting glow spreads like warm honey through my veins. This man—_God's gift to women—_loves me.

I find myself grinning goofily at him, and when he glances down at me, he's amused yet puzzled by expression. I just want to hug myself, I'm so happy.

"Whatever you're high on, please, by all means share, Miss Chandler." he murmurs as Bill heads off to his computer.

"The only thing I'm high on, as you have sweetly put it, would be you, Mr. Keller."

"Really, now? Well, you certainly look pretty intoxicated." He chuckles, then kisses me briefly. "And thank you for letting me get you a car. This was a hell of a lot easier than last time." he adds.

I smirk, shrugging. "Well, it's not an Audi A3."

He smiles. "It's not the car for you, Miss Chandler."

"I like the Audi." I giggle.

We gaze at each other in complete silence. I glance down at his lips then back up into his eyes, biting my bottom lip. He leans in slowly, as do I, and our lips touch. Vincent wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me into him as he pushes his tongue into my more-than-willing mouth, and my arms wrap around his neck.

"Ahem... Sir." Bill clears his throat uncomfortably while looking down. He's flushed and seems just as embarrassed as we are. We both let out a chuckle and get straight back to business... _with the car, of course._

"Yes?" Vincent responds.

"The 9-3? I've located one at our Beverly Hills dealership. We can have it here for you in a couple of days." Bill glows with triumph. _Better than the crimson red of embarrassment..._

"Top of the range?"

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent." Vincent produces his credit card—_or is it Sam's?_ The thought is unnerving. I wonder how Sam is, and if he's located Alex in the apartment. I rub my forehead. _Yes, there's all of Vincent's baggage too._

"If you'll come this way, Mr.—" Bill glances at the name on the card—"Keller."

* * *

><p>Vincent opens the my door, and I climb back into the passenger seat of his car. "Thank you." I say when he's seated beside me.<p>

He smiles. "You're most welcome, Catherine."

The music starts again as Vincent starts the engine.

"Who's this?" I ask.

"Eva Cassidy."

"She has a lovely voice." I murmur.

"That, she does." he responds. "Well, she did." he adds quickly.

"Did?"

"She died real young." he says low.

"Ah, I see."

"Are you hungry?" he asks. "You didn't finish all of your breakfast." He glances quickly at me, disapproval outlined on his face.

_Uh-oh! _"Yes."

"Lunch first, then." he sighs.

* * *

><p>Vincent leads me into a large seafront bar and makes his way to the counter. The décor is more New England than West Coast: white-limed walls, pale blue furnishings, and boating paraphernalia hanging everywhere. It's a bright, cheery place.<p>

"Mr. Keller!" the bartender greets Vincent warmly. "What can I get you this afternoon?"

"William, good afternoon." Vincent grins as we both slip onto bar stools. "This lovely lady is Catherine Chandler." he adds, grabbing my hand and kissing my knuckles.

"Why, hello, Miss Chandler. Welcome to SP's Place." William gives me a friendly smile. He's tan and beautiful, his eyes are bright hazel green. A bright diamond stud winks at me from his ear. I like him immediately. "What would you like to drink, Catherine?"

I glance at Vincent, who regards me expectantly. _Oh, he's going to let me choose?_

"Please. Call me Cat. I'll have whatever Vincent's drinking." I smile shyly at William. Fifty's so much better at wine that I am.

"Well, I'm going to have a beer. This is the only bar in Seattle where you can get Adnam's Explorer." Vincent says.

"A beer?" I raise a brow at him.

"Yeah." He grins at me. "Two Explorers, please, William."

William nods and sets up the beers onto the bar.

"They have an awesome seafood chowder here." Vincent says. _Wow, he's asking me?_

"Chowder and beer sounds great." I smile.

"Two chowders then, William."

We talk through our meal, and it's weird because we never have before. Vincent's relaxed and calm... he looks so young, happy, and animated despite all that transpired yesterday.

He recounts the history of Keller Enterprises Holdings, and the more he reveals, the more I sense his passion for fixing problem companies, his hopes for the technology he's developing, and his dreams of making land in the third world more productive. I listen enraptured. He's funny, clever, philanthropic, and beautiful—_and he loves me..._

In turn, he plagues me with questions about Thomas and my mom, about growing up in the lush forests of Montesano, and my brief stints in Texas and Vegas. He demands to know my favorite books and films, and I'm surprised by how much we have in common. As we talk, it strikes me that he's went from Hardy's '_Alec' _to '_Angel'—_debasement to high ideal in such a short amount of time.

It's after two when we finish our meal. Vincent settles the tab with William, who wishes us a fond farewell.

"This is a great place. Thank you for lunch." I say as Vincent takes my hand and we leave the bar.

"We'll come again." he says, and we stroll along the waterfront. "I wanted to show you something." he adds.

"I know... and I can't wait to see it, whatever it is." I smile.

* * *

><p>We wander hand in hand along the marina. It's such a pleasant afternoon. People are out enjoying their Sunday's walking their dogs, admiring the boats, watching their kids run along the promenade.<p>

As we head down the marina, the boats are getting progressively larger. Vincent leads me on to the dock and stops in front of a huge catamaran. "I thought we'd go sailing today. This is my boat." he smiles.

_Oh my God! _It must be at least forty, maybe even fifty feet high. Two sleek white hulls, a deck, a roomy cabin, and towering over them is a very tall mast. I know nothing about boats, but I can tell this one is special. "Wow..." I murmur in wonder.

"Built by my company." he says proudly and my heart swells. "She's been designed from the ground up by the very best naval architects in the world and constructed here in Seattle at my yard. She has hybrid electric drives, asymmetric dagger boards, a square-topped mainsail—"

"Okay... you've lost me, Vincent."

He grins. "She's a great boat."

"She looks mighty fine, Mr. Keller."

"That she does, Miss Chandler."

"And her name?"

He pulls me to the side so I can see her name: _The Marianne_. I'm surprised. "You named her after your mom?" I ask.

"Yeah." He cocks is head to one side, quizzical. "Why? Do you find that strange?" he adds.

I shrug. I'm just surprised. He's always seemed ambivalent in her presence.

"I adore my mom, Catherine. Why wouldn't I name a boat after her?"

I flush. "No, it's not that... it's just..." _Shit! How can I put this into words?_

"Catherine, Mary Keller saved my life. I owe her everything."

I gaze at him, and let the reverence in his softly spoken admission wash over me. It's obvious to me, for the first time, that he loves his mom. _So why the strange strained ambivalence toward her?_

"Do you want to come aboard?" he asks, his eyes bright and filled with excitement.

"Sure." I smile.

He looks delighted and delightful in one yummy scrumptious package. Grasping my hand, he strides up the small gangplank and leads me aboard so that we're standing on deck beneath a rigid canopy. To one side, there's a table and a U-shaped banquette covered in pale blue leather, which must seat at least eight people. I glance through the sliding doors to the interior of the cabin and jump, startled when I spot someone there. The tall blond man opens the sliding doors and emerges, all tanned, curly-haired and brown-eyed. He's wearing a faded pink short-sleeved polo shirt, shorts, and deck shoes. He must be in his early thirties.

"Mac." Vincent beams.

"Mr. Keller! Welcome back." They shake hands.

"Catherine, this is Liam McConnel. Liam, this is my girlfriend, Catherine Chandler." Vincent says proudly.

_Girlfriend!_ My inner goddess performs a quick arabesque. She's still grinning over the convertible. _I have to get used to this_—it's not the first time he's said it, but hearing him say it is still a thrill.

"How d'ya do, dove?" Liam and I shake hands. "Call me Mac." he says warmly, and I can't place his accent. "Welcome aboard, Miss Chandler."

"Cat, please." I mutter, flushing. He has deep brown eyes.

"How's she shaping up, Mac?" Vincent interjects quickly, and for a moment, I think he's about me.

"She's ready to rock n' roll, sir." Mac beams. _Oh, the boat... The Marianne... silly me._

"Let's get underway, then." Vincent rubs his hands together like a child anxious to get into the cookie jar. I smile at him. It's so good to see him like this. So happy... so carefree... so un-Fifty.

"You gon' to take her out?" Mac smiles.

"Yep." Vincent flashes Mac a quick wicked grin. "Quick tour, Catherine?" he adds.

"Sure." I reply.

I follow him inside the cabin. An L-shaped cream leather sofa is directly in front of us, and above it, a massive curved window offers a panoramic view of the marina. To the left is the kitchen area; very well appointed, all pale wood.

"This is the main saloon. Gallery beside it." Vincent says, waving his hand in the direction of the kitchen. He takes my hand and leads me through the main cabin. It's surprisingly spacious. The floor is the same pale wood. It looks modern and sleek and has a light, airy feel. But it's all very functional, as if he doesn't spend much time here.

"Bathrooms are on either side." Vincent points to two doors, then opens the small, oddly shaped door directly in front of us and steps in. We're in a plush bedroom. _Oh..._

It has a king-sized cabin bed and is all pale blue linen and pale wood like his bedroom at Escala. Vincent obviously chooses a theme and sticks with it.

"This is the master cabin." He gazes down at me, brown eyes glowing. "You're the first girl in here, apart from family." he smirks. "But technically they don't count." he adds with a chuckle.

I flush under his heated stare, and my pulse quickens. _Really? Another first! _He pulls me into his arms, his fingers tangling in my hair, and kisses me, long and hard. We're both breathless when he pulls away. "Might have to break in the bed." he whispers against my mouth.

_At sea? Hell yes!_

"But not right now. Come on, Mac will be casting off." he says and I ignore the stab of disappointment as he takes my hand and leads me back through the saloon.

He indicates another door. "Office in there, and at the front here, two more cabins."

_Wow! _"So how many can sleep on board?" I ask.

"It's a six-berth cat. I've only ever had the family on board, though. I like to sail alone, but not when you're here. I need to keep an eye on you." he smirks. He delves into a chest and pulls out a bright red life-jacket. "Here." Putting it over my head, he tightens all the straps, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"You love strapping me in things, don't you?" I scoff.

"In any form." he says, a wicked grin playing on his lips. "Yes." he adds.

"You're a pervert." I laugh.

"I know." He raises his brows and his grin broadens.

"But you're my pervert." I whisper.

"Yes, yours." he breathes.

Once secured, he grabs the sides of the jacket and kisses me. "Always, Catherine." he whispers, then releases me before I have a chance to respond.

_Always?! Holy cow!_

He grabs my hand and leads me outside, up some steps, and onto the upper deck to a small cockpit that houses a big steering wheel and a raised seat. At the prow of the boat, Mac is doing something with ropes.

"Is this where you learned all of your rope tricks?" I ask Vincent innocently.

"Clove hitches have come in handy." he says, looking at me appraisingly. "Miss Chandler, you sound curious." he raises a brow. "Hmm, I like you curious babe. I'd be more than happy to demonstrate what I can do with a rope." He smirks at me, and I gaze back impassively as if he's upset me. His face falls.

"Gotcha!" I grin.

His mouth twists and he narrows his eyes. "I may have to deal with you later, but right now, I've got to drive my boat." He sits at the controls, presses a button, and the engines roar to life. Mac comes scooting back down the side of the boat, grinning at me, and jumps down to the deck below where he starts to unfasten a rope. Maybe he knows some rope tricks, too. The ides pops unwelcome into my head and I flush.

My subconscious glares at me. Mentally, I shrug at her and glance at Vincent—_I blame Fifty. _He picks up the receiver and radios the cost-guard as Mac calls up that we are set to go. Once more, I'm dazzled by Vincent's expertise. He's so competent. _Is there anything that this man can't do?_ Then I remember his earnest attempt to chop and dice a pepper in my apartment on Friday. The thought makes me smile.

Slowly, Vincent eases The Marianne out of her berth and toward the marina entrance. Behind us, a small crowd has gathered on the dockside to watch our departure. Small children are waving, and I wave back. Vincent glances over his shoulder, then pulls me between his legs and points out various dials and gadgets in the cockpit. "Grab the wheel." he orders, bossy as ever, but I do as I'm told.

"Aye, aye, Captain!" I giggle.

Placing his hands snugly over mine, he continues to steer our course out of the marina, and within a few minutes, we're out on the open sea, slap into the cold blue waters of Puget Sound. Away from the shelter of the marina's protective wall. The wind is stronger, and the sea pitches and rolls beneath us.

I can't help but grin, feeling Vincent's excitement. _Oh, this is such fun! _We make a large curve until we're heading west toward the Olympic Peninsula, the wind behind us.

"Sail time." Vincent says, excited. "Here. You take her. Keep her on this course."

_What? _He grins, reacting to the horror on my face, no doubt.

"Babe, it's really easy. Hold the wheel and keep your eye on the horizon over the bow. You'll do great; you always do. When the sails go up, you'll feel the drag. Just hold her steady. I'll signal like this—" he makes a slashing motion across his throat—"and you can cut the engines by pressing this button here." He points to a large black button. "Understand?"

"Yes." I nod frantically, feeling panicky. _Damn! I hadn't expected to do this... or anything for that matter!_

He kisses me quickly, then steps off his Captain's chair and bounds up to the front of the boat to join Mac where he starts unfurling sails, untying ropes, and operating winches and pulleys. They work well together in a team, shouting various nautical terms to each other, and it's warming to see Fifty interacting with someone else in such a carefree manner.

Perhaps Mac is Vincent's friend. He doesn't seem to have many, as far as I can tell, but then again, I don't have many either. _Well, not here in Seattle._ The only friend I have is on vacation sunning herself in St. James on the west coast of Barbados.

I have a sudden pang for Tess. I miss my roommate more than I thought I would when she left. I hope she changes her mind and comes home with Tim, rather than prolong her stay with Vincent's brother, JT.

Vincent and Mac hoist the mainsail. It fills and billows out as the wind seizes it hungrily, and the boat lurches suddenly, zipping forward. I feel it through the wheel too. _Whoa!_

They get to work on the head-sail, and I watch, fascinated, as it flies up the mast. The wind catches it, stretching it taut.

"Hold her steady, Cat, and cut the engines!" Vincent shouts out to me over the wind, monitoring me to switch off the engines. I can only just hear his voice, but I nod enthusiastically, gazing at the man I love, all windswept, exhilarated, and bracing himself against the pitch and yaw of the boat.

I press the button, the roar of the engine ceases, and The Marianne soars toward the Olympic Peninsula, skimming across the water as if she's flying. I want to yell and scream and cheer. This has to be the most exhilarating experiences of my life, except perhaps the glider, and maybe even the Red Room of Pain.

_Oh wow! This boat can move! _I stand firm, grasping the wheel, fighting the rudder, and Vincent is behind me once again, his hands on mine. "What do you think?" he shouts above the sound of the wind and the sea.

"Vincent! I love it! I feel so alive!" I smile.

He beams at me, grinning from ear to ear. "Just wait until the spinney's up." He points with his chin toward Mac, who is unfurling the spinnaker; a sail that's a dark, rich red. It reminds me of the walls in the playroom.

"Interesting color." I shout, raising a brow. He gives me a wolfish grin and winks at me. _Oh, so it's deliberately that color? Wow..._

The spinney balloons out—a large, odd elliptical shape—putting The Marianne in overdrive. Finding her head, she speeds over the Sound.

"Asymmetrical sail. For speed." Vincent answers my unasked question.

"It's amazing." I shout. I can't think of a better word to describe it and I have the most ridiculous grin on my face as we whip through the water, heading for the majesty of the Olympic Mountains and Bainbridge Island. Glancing back, I see Seattle shrinking behind us, Mount Rainer in the far distance.

I'd not really appreciated how beautiful and rugged Seattle's surrounding landscapes were before. Verndant, lush, and temperate, tall evergreens and cliff faces jutting out here and there. It has a wild but serene beauty on this glorious sunny afternoon that takes my breath away. The stillness is stunning compared to our speed as we whip across the water.

He squeezes my hands, smiling. "You look lovely, Catherine. It's good to see some color in your cheeks, and not from blushing. You like you do in Patrick's photos."

I turn and kiss him." Well, Mr. Keller... I believe that is because you know how to show a girl a good time."

"We aim to please, Miss Chandler." He reaches up and pulls my hair free, dancing ever so elegantly in the wind, then he pushes my hair to the side and kisses the back of my neck, sending delicious shivers down my spine. "I like seeing you happy, Catherine." he murmurs and tightens his arms around me.

_You're one lucky bitch! _My subconscious snaps at me. _But you have your work cut out for you with him... he's not going to want this vanilla bullshit forever... You're going to have to compromise! _She adds and I glare at her in distaste, even though I know she's right. Vincent isn't gonna want things like this forever. He has needs too. But it worries me... _can I do it? Am I ready to do the things he wants?_

Right now, I just want to be in the now and not think about anything else. Things are just too great between us to ruin it now. I lean back against Vincent's chest and I sigh. _This is where I want to be..._

* * *

><p>An hour later, we're anchored in a small, secluded cove off the Bainbridge Island. Mac has went to shore in the inflatable boat. For what, I have no clue. But everything becomes clear as soon as Mac disappears. Vincent grabs my hand and practically drags me into his cabin. Truly a man with a mission.<p>

Now, he stands before me, exuding his intoxicating sensuality as his deft fingers make quick work of the straps on my life-jacket. He tosses it to one side and gazes intently down at me, eyes dark and dilated.

I'm already lost and he's barely touched me. He raises his hand to my face, and his fingers move down my chin, the column of my throat, my sternum, searing me with his touch all the way to the first button of my blouse.

"I want to see you." he breathes and dexterously undoes the button. Bending, he plants a soft kiss on my parted lips. I'm panting and eager, aroused by the potent combination pf his captivating beauty, his raw sexuality in the confines of this cabin, and the gentle sway of the boat.

He stands back_. _"Strip for me." he whispers, eyes burning.

_Jesus! _And oddly, I'm only too happy to comply. Not taking my eyes off his, I slowly undo each button of my blouse, savoring his scorching gaze. _Oh, this is heady stuff! _I can see his desire. It's evident in his face... and somewhere else.

I let my shirt fall to the floor and reach for the button on my jeans.

"Stop." he orders. "Sit."

I sit down on the edge of the bed, and in one fluid movement, he's on his knees in front of me, undoing the laces of first one then the other sneaker, pulling each off, followed by my socks. He picks up my left foot and raising it, he plants a soft kiss on the pad of my big toe, then grazes his teeth against it.

"Agh!" I moan as I feel the effect in my groin. He stands in one smooth move, holds his hand out to me and pulls me up off the bed.

"By all means, Miss Chandler, continue." he smiles seductively and stands back to watch me.

I ease the zipper of my jeans down and hook my thumbs in the waistband as I sashay then slide them down my legs. A soft groan escapes through his parted lips and he briefly closes his eyes as he swallows. He opens them again and his gaze is more intense, but loving at the same time.

And I don't know if it's because he made love to me this morning, and I mean _really _made love to me—gently, sweetly—or if it was his impassioned declaration: _Yes, I do... _But I don't feel embarrassed at all to be stripping in front of him. I want to be sexy for this man. He deserves sexy—_because he makes me feel sexy._

_Okay, it's all new to me... _But I'm slowly learning under his expert tutelage. And then again, so much is new to him too. It balances the seesaw between us, a little—_I think_

I'm wearing some of my new lingerie-like underwear: a lacy white thong and matching bra, a designer brand with a price tag to match. I step out of my jeans and stand there for him in the lingerie he's paid for. But I no longer feel cheap. I feel his.

Reaching behind I unhook my bra, sliding the straps down my arms, and I drop it on top of my blouse. Slowly, I slip my panties off, letting them fall to my ankles, and I step out of them, surprised by my grace.

Standing before him, I'm fully naked and for once I'm unashamed, and I know it's because he loves me. I no longer have to hide.

He says nothing, just gazes at me. All I see is his desire, his adoration even, the depth of his need—and the depth of his love for me.

He reaches down, lifts the hem of sweater and pulls it over his head, followed by his T-shirt, revealing his perfectly sculptured chest and torso, never taking his bold gaze off mine. His shoes and socks follow before he grasps the button of his jeans.

I reach over, stopping him. "Let me." I whisper. His lips purse briefly in an _ooh_ shape, and he smiles. "Be my guest."

I step even closer to him as I slip my fearless fingers inside the waistband of his jeans, and tug so he's forced to take a step closer to me. He gasps involuntarily at my unexpected audacity then smiles down at me.

I undo the button, but before I unzip him, I let my fingers wander, tracing his erection through the soft denim. He flexes his hips into my palm and closes his eyes briefly, relishing my touch. "You're getting so bold, Catherine... so brave." he whispers and clasps my face with both hands, bending to kiss me deeply.

I put my hands on his hips; half on his cool soft skin, and half on the low-slung waistband of his jeans. "So are you." I growl against his lips as my thumbs rub slow circles on his skin.

He smiles. "Getting there."

I move my hands to the front of his jeans and pull down the zipper. My intrepid fingers move down to his erection, and I grasp him tightly. He makes a low sound in his throat, his sweet breath washing over me, and he kisses me again, lovingly. As our kiss deepens, my hand moves over him, around him, stroking him, squeezing him tightly. He moans, taking my bottom lip between his teeth as he wraps his arms around me, his right hand flat against the small of my back and his fingers are spread. His left hand is now in my hair, holding me to his mouth.

"Catherine, I want you." he breathes, and steps back suddenly to remove his jeans and boxers in one swift move. He is a fine, _super fine, _sight... in or out of clothes, every single inch of him is truly fine.

_He's perfect. His beauty desecrated only by his scars_, I think sadly. And they run so much deeper than his skin. I close my eyes to fight the sudden prickling of tears, blinking rapidly.

"What's wrong, Catherine?" he murmurs and gently strokes my cheek with his knuckles.

"Nothing. I just... I need you to love me, now." I whisper.

He pulls me into his arms, kissing me, twisting his hands into my hair. Our tongues entwined, he walks me backward to the bed and gently lowers me onto it, following me down so that he's hying by my side. He runs his nose along my jawline as my hands move to his hair.

"Do you have any idea how exquisite your scent is, Catherine? It's irresistible."

His words do what they always do—flame my blood, quicken my pulse—and he trails his nose down my throat, across my breasts, kissing me reverentially as he does.

"You're so beautiful." he murmurs, as he takes one of my nipples in his mouth and softly suckles. I moan as my body bows off the bed. "I want to hear you, babe." he growls. His hand trails down to my waist, and I glory in the feel of his touch, skin to skin, his hungry mouth at my breasts and his skilled long fingers caressing and stroking me, cherishing me. Moving over my hips, over my behind, and down my leg to my knee—_and I'll be damned if he isn't still sucking __on __my breasts! Oh, Dear God! I'm going to explode!_

Grasping my knee, he suddenly hitches my leg up, curling it over his hip, making me gasp, and I feel rather than see his responding grin against my skin. He rolls over so that I'm astride him and hands me a foil packet. I shift back, taking him in my hands, and I just can't resist him in all his glory. I vend and kiss him, taking him in my mouth, swirling my tongue around him, then sucking hard. He grownas and flexes his hips so that he's deeper in my mouth.

_Mmm... he tastes so good. _But I want him inside of me. I sit up and gaze at him; he's breathless, mouth open, watching me intently.

Hurriedly, I tear open the foil and unroll the condom over him. He holds out his hands for me. I take one and with the other hand, I position myself over him, slowly claiming him as mine.

He groans low in his throat, closing his eyes. The feel of him in me... stretching... filling me... I moan softly. The feeling is divine. He places his hands on my hips and moves me up, then back down, pushing into me. _Oh... _"it's so good." I whisper, tilting my head back.

"Catherine..." he whispers, and suddenly he sits up so we're nose to nose, and the sensation is extraordinary and so full. I gasp, grabbing his upper arms as he clasps my head in his hands and gazes into my eyes, his gaze intense and brown, burning with desire.

"Oh God, Catherine. What you make me feel." he murmurs and kisses me passionately with fervent ardor. I kiss him back, dizzy with the delicious feeling of our thrusts, and of course, him buried deep inside of me.

I close my eyes, arching my back. "Oh, I love you, Vincent!" I moan. He groans as if pained to hear my declaration and rolls over, taking me with him without breaking out precious contact so that I'm lying beneath him. I wrap my legs around his waist.

He stares down at me with adoring wonder, and I'm sure I mirror his expression as I reach up to caress his beautiful face. Very slowly, he starts to move, closing his eyes as he does and moaning softly.

The gentle sway of the boat and the peace and quiet tranquility of the cabin are broken only by our mingled breaths as he moves slowly in and out of me, so controlled and so good—it's heavenly. He puts his arm over my head, his hand in my hair, and he caresses my face with the other as he bends to kiss me. I'm cocooned by him, as he makes love to my body—_makes love to me—_slowly moving in and out, savoring me. I touch him, sticking to the boundaries: his arms, his hair, his lower back, his beautiful ass.

My breathing accelerates as his steady rhythm pushes me higher and higher. He's kissing my mouth, my chin, my jaw, then nibbling my ear. I can hear his staccato breaths with each gentle thrust of his body.

My body starts to quiver. "Oh..." I moan. This feeling that I know so well... I'm so close now... "Ooh!" I groan.

"That's right, baby... give it up for me." he breathes and his words are my undoing.

"Yes, Vincent!" I scream, and he groans as we climax together.

After a moment of heavy breathing, Vincent kisses my lips softly. "Mac will be back soon." he whispers against my lips.

"Hmm." My eyes flicker open to meet his soft brown gaze. _Lord, his eyes are an amazing color._

"As much as I'd like to lie here with you all afternoon, he'll need a hand with the dinghy." Leaning down, Vincent kisses me tenderly. "Cat, you look so beautiful right now... all mused up and sexy. Makes me want you more." He smiles and pulls out of me gently, then rises out of bed.

I turn and lay on my front admiring the view of his naked, muscular body and I sigh. "You know, you're not so bad yourself, _Captain_." I smack my lips in admiration and he grins.

I watch him move gracefully about the cabin as he dresses. He really is divinely beautiful, and what's more, he's just made the most sweetest love to me, yet again. I can hardly believe my good fortune. I can't quite believe that this man is mine.

He sits down beside me to put on his shoes. "Captain, eh?" he says dryly. "Well, I am master of this vessel."

I cock my head to one side. "You are also master of my heart, Mr. Keller." _And my body...and my soul..._

He shakes his head incredulously and bends to kiss me. "I'll be on deck. There's a shower in the bathroom if you want one." he says. "Do you need anything? A drink?" he adds solicitously, and all I can do is grin at him. _Is this the same man? Is this the same Vincent Keller?_

"What?" he asks, reacting to my stupid grin.

I sigh, leaning my head on my elbow. "You."

"What about me?" he raises a brow.

"Who are you and what have you done with Vincent?" I giggle.

His lips twitch with a sad smile. "He's not very far away, babe." he says softly, and there's a touch of melancholy in his voice that makes me instantly regret asking the question. But he shakes it off. "You'll see him soon enough"—he smirks at me—"especially if you don't get up."

Reaching over, he smacks me hard on my behind so I yelp and laugh at the same time. "You had me worried." I giggle.

"Did I, now?" Vincent's brow creases. "You do give off mixed signals, Catherine. How's a man supposed to keep up?" He leans down and kisses me again. "Laters, baby." he adds, and with a dazzling smile, he gets up and leaves me to my scattered thoughts.

_Oh, Vincent... what would I do without you?..._

* * *

><p><em><strong>**Hey guys. Sorry for the late update. I had fallen ill with a stomach bug and wasn't up to doing anything at all lol. Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed this. I'm not sure when I will update again because I have my uncles funeral tomorrow to attend. I love you all! Now love me back and REVIEW! hehe lol.**<strong>_


	38. Chapter 38

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><strong>*WARNING: The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, graphic sexual content, and DOMSUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Extra: I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>*Summary: (AU) – -Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: I am so sorry for the long wait guys! I have had sick kids, whom passed it all to their momma lol. I'm feeling much better now. For all of my FSOG fans, I'm happy to announce that I am also now working on my first fanfic with Christian and Anastasia... I hope you all check it out once posted. I will give fare warning that we are about to experience some extreme lemons in this chapter O.O that's all I'm going to say MWAHAHAHA! Enjoy.)**

_Italics represent Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 38-<strong>_

After a wonderful day out on _The Grace, _Vincent had received word that his apartment was thoroughly checked and secured, and discovered that Alex had entered through the fire escape stairwell, which leads to the balcony. It still doesn't make sense... _what does she want with me? _I shake the thought, not wanting to ruin our day of sweet bliss.

* * *

><p>We arrive at an Italian bistro next to SP's called <em>Bee's<em>. It reminds me of the place in Portland—a few tables and booths, the décor very crisp and modern with a large black and white photograph of a turn-of-the-century fiesta serving as a mural.

Vincent and I are seated in a booth, poring over the menu and sipping on a delicious light Frascati. When I glance up from the menu—_having made my choice_—Vincent is gazing at me speculatively.

"What?" I ask, blushing.

He sighs. "You look lovely, Catherine. The outdoors agree with you."

_What? _"I actually feel rather wind-burned to tell the truth." I sigh and smile a full smile. "But I had a great time, Vincent. Thank you."

He smiles. "The pleasure is all mine, Cat." he murmurs.

"Can I ask you something?" I ask.

"Anything, Catherine. You know that." He cocks his head to one side, looking deliciously sexy.

"You don't seem to have many friends. Why is that?"

He shrugs and frowns. "I told you, I don't really have time for friends. I have business associates—though that's very different from friendships, I suppose. I have my family and that's it. Apart from Gabriella."

I cringe at the mention of the bitch-troll. "No male friends your own age that you can go out with and let off steam? Drink a beer with? Ogle girls and have a debate on whether or not she has a nice ass?" I ask.

"You know how I like to let off steam, Catherine. And I'm more of a wine type of guy; beer is merely a once in a while occasion. And as far as ogling other girls, debating their ass? I truly enjoy ogling _your_ ass, and I'd rather not debate it with other men. I don't like to share." Vincent's mouth twists. "And I've been working, building up the company." He looks puzzled. "That's all I do—except sail and fly occasionally."

"Not even in college?" I ask.

"Not really, no."

"Just Gabriella, then?"

He nods, his expression wary.

I sigh. "It must be lonely." I whisper.

His lips curl in a small wistful smile. "What would you like to eat?" he asks, changing the subject again.

After we've ordered our food, I shift uncomfortably in my seat, staring at my knotted fingers on the table. _If he's in a talking mood, I need to take advantage._ I have to talk to him about his expectations... _about his, um... needs._

"What's wrong, Catherine?"

I glance up into his eyes. His expression is one of concern and worry.

"Tell me." he says more forcefully, and his concern evolves into what? _Fear? Anger? _

I take a deep breath. "I'm just worried that this isn't enough for you. You know, to let off steam."

His jaw tenses and his eyes harden. "Have I given you any indication that this isn't enough?"

"No." I whisper.

"Then why do you think that?"

I pause before I answer him. _Why do I think that I'm not enough? _"I know what you're like, Vincent. What you... uhm... need." I stutter.

He closes his eyes and rubs his forehead with his long fingers. "What do I have to do?" His voice is ominously soft as if he's angry, and my heart sinks like the Titanic.

"No, no, no, you misunderstand—you have been truly amazing, and I know it's just been a few days, but I hope I'm not forcing you to be someone you're not, Vincent." I murmur, grabbing his hand from across the table, squeezing it reassuringly.

"I'm still me, Catherine—in all my fifty shades of fucked-up-ness. Yes, I have to fight the urge to be controlling... but that's my nature, how I've dealt with my life. Yes, I expect you to behave a certain way, and when you don't it's both challenging and refreshing. We still do what I like to do. You let me spank that beautiful ass of yours after your outrageous bid yesterday." He smiles fondly at the memory. "I enjoy punishing you. I don't think the urge will ever go away... but I'm trying, and it's not as hard as I thought it would be." he shrugs.

I squirm and flush, remembering our illicit tryst in his childhood bedroom. "I didn't mind that." I whisper, smiling shyly.

"I know." His lips curl in a reluctant smile. "Neither did I. But let me tell you something, Catherine, this is all new to me, but, these last few days have been the best days of my entire life. I don't want to change anything."

_Oh?! _"They've been the best in my life, too. Without exception." I murmur and his smile broadens. My inner goddess nods frantically in agreement, and nudges me hard. _Okay, okay! _"So, you don't want to take me back into the playroom?" I ask.

He swallows hard and pales, all trace of humor has disappeared. "No, I don't." he snaps.

"Why not?" I breathe. This is not the answer I expected. And yes, there is that little pinch of disappointment. My inner goddess stomps off pouting, her arms crossed like an angry toddler.

"The last time we were in there, you left me, Catherine." he says quietly. "I will shy away from anything that could make you leave me again. I was completely devastated when you left the last time. I already explained that to you. And I never want to feel that way again. I've told you how I feel about you." His brown irises are wide and intense with his sincerity.

I take a deep breath. "But Vincent, it hardly seems fair. It can't be very relaxing for you, to be constantly concerned about how _I _feel. You've made all these sacrifices for me, and I... I think I should reciprocate in some way. I just don't know how—maybe... try... _some_ role-playing games?" I stutter, my face as crimson as the walls of the playroom.

_Why is this so hard to talk about? _I've done all manner of kinky fuckery with this man, things I hadn't ever heard of a few weeks ago, things that I would never have thought possible, yet the hardest of all things we do together is talking to him.

"Cat, you do reciprocate, more than you know. Please, please don't feel like this." he says nearly in a whisper. Gone is care-free Vincent. His eyes are wider now with alarm, and it's gut-wrenching. "Babe, it's only been one weekend." he continues. "Give us some time. I thought a great deal about us last week when you left and we just need time. You need to trust me, and I need to trust you. Maybe in time we can indulge in the playroom, but I like how we are now. I like seeing you this happy, this relaxed and carefree, knowing that I had something to do with it. I've never—" He stops and runs his hand through his hair. "We have to walk before we can run." Suddenly, he smirks.

"What's so funny?" I ask.

"Marks. He says that all the time. I never thought I'd be quoting him."

"A Marks-ism." I giggle.

Vincent laughs. "Exactly."

* * *

><p>After our tasty and filling meal, Vincent drives back to Escala. Snow Patrol's <em>Chasing Cars <em>is softly blaring through the speakers and it allows me enough peace to think back on this mind-blowing day. _Dr. Greene, our shower, Vincent's admission, making love at the hotel and on the boat, buying the car... _Even Vincent himself has been so different. It's as if he's letting go of something or rediscovering something—_I don't know._

_Who knew he could be so sweet? Did he? _When I glance at him, he too, looks lost in thought. It strikes me then that he never really had an adolescence—_a normal one anyway. _I shake my head. My mind drifts back to the ball and dancing with Dr. Marks and Vincent's fear that Marks had told me _all about him_. _Vincent's still hiding something from me. _

_How can we move on if he feels that way? _He thinks that I'll leave if I know him... then again, he thinks I might leave if he's himself. _Oh, this man is so complicated!_

As we get closer to his home, he starts radiating tension until it becomes palpable. As we drive, he scans the sidewalks and side alleys, his eyes darting everywhere, and I know he's looking for Alex. I start looking, too. Every young brunette is a suspect, but we don't see her anywhere.

* * *

><p>When he pulls into the garage, his mouth is set in a tense, grim line. I wonder why we've come back here if he's going to be so wary and uptight. Sam is in the garage, patrolling. The totalled Audi is gone. Sam comes to open my door as Vincent pulls in beside the SUV.<p>

"Hello, Sam." I murmur my greeting.

"Miss Chandler." He nods. "Mr. Keller."

"No sign?" Vincent asks.

"No, sir." Sam sighs.

Vincent nods, grabs my hand, an heads for the elevator. I know his brain is working overtime—_he's distracted. _

Once we're inside of the elevator, he turns to me. "You are not allowed out of here alone. Understand?" he snaps.

"Okay." _Jeez! Keep your panties on, Keller! _But his attitude makes me smile. I want to hug myself. Now, this man, all domineering and short with me, I know. I marvel that I would've found it so threatening a week or so ago when he spoke to me this way. But now? I truly understand him so much better. This is his coping mechanism.

He's stressed about Alex—_and he loves me... _And he wants to protect me—_because he loves me! _I smile like an idiot by these thoughts.

"What's so funny?" he mutters under his breath, a hint of amusement in his expression.

"You are, Mr. Keller." I giggle.

"Me? Miss Chandler? Please, enlighten me on how I've amused you so deeply?" he pouts.

_For the love of everything Holy, this man is extremely hot when he pouts! _"Don't pout." I breathe.

"Why?" He's even more amused now.

"Because, it has the same effect on me as I have on you when I bite my lip." and with saying so, I bite my lip in an example.

He raises his eyebrows, surprised and pleased all at the same time. "Really, now, Miss Chandler?" He pouts again and leans down to give me a swift chaste kiss.

I raise my lips to meet his, and in a nanosecond as our lips touch, the nature of the kiss changes. Wildfire spreading through my veins from this intimate point of contact, driving me insane.

Suddenly, my fingers are curling in his hair as he grabs me and pushes me against the elevator wall, his hands framing my face, holding me to his lips as our tongues thrash against each other. And I don't know if it's the confines of the elevator making everything much more real, but I feel his need, his anxiety, and his passion.

_Jesus! I want him—need him, here and right now!_

The elevator pings to a halt and the doors slide open. Vincent drags his face from mine, his hips still pinning me to the wall, his erection digging into my belly.

"Wow." he whispers, panting.

"Wow." I mirror him, dragging a welcome breath into my lungs.

He gazes at me, eyes blazing. "Dammit, woman. The things you do to me." He traces my lower lip with his thumb.

Out of the corner of my eye, Sam steps backward so he's no longer in my line of sight. _Wait, hold the fuck up! How'd he get up here before us?!_

Vincent places a soft, sweet kiss onto my lips, pulling me out of my thoughts, then pulls back again. I reach up and hook my hand behind his neck and pull him to me once more, kissing him with a tad more passion than he did, then place a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "The things you do to me, too, Vincent."

"Come on." he whispers and leads me into the foyer. "Sam."

"Mr. Keller." Sam nods.

I look at him questionally and he shrugs. _Oh, forget it. _"Sam." I nod.

"Miss Chandler." he replies.

"I was Mrs. Landon yesterday." I giggle at Sam, who flushes.

"Sure has a nice ring to it, Miss Chandler." Sam says matter-of-factly.

"I thought so, too." I smile.

Vincent tightens his hold on my hand, scowling. "If you two have quite finished, I'd like a debrief." He says, glaring at Sam, who now looks uncomfortable, and I cringe inwardly. _I've overstepped the mark._

"Sorry." I mouth at Sam, who shrugs and smiles kindly before I turn to follow Vincent.

"I'll be with you shortly. I just want a word with Miss Chandler." Vincent says to Sam, and I know that I'm in trouble.

Vincent leads me into his bedroom and closes the door behind him, leaning back against it. "Don't flirt with the staff, Catherine." he scolds.

I open my mouth to defend myself, then close it again. _Is he being serious right now? Me? Flirting with Sam? Hell no! _"I wasn't flirting, Vincent." I snap. "I was being friendly. There is a difference." I add, crossing my arms in front of me.

"Fine. Don't be friendly with the staff, Catherine, or flirt with them. I don't like it." he growls.

"I'm sorry." I mutter and stare down at my fingers. "My intentions were not to flirt at all." I add in a whisper. He hasn't made me feel like a child all day, up until now.

Reaching down, he cups my chin, pulling my head up to meet his eyes. "You know how jealous I am, Catherine." he whispers.

"You have no reason to be jealous, Vincent. You own me, body and soul." I mutter shakily.

He blinks as if he's finding this fact hard to process. He leans down and kisses me quickly, but with none of the passion we experienced a moment ago in the elevator. "I won't be long. Make yourself at home." he says sulkily and turns, leaving me standing in his bedroom dazed and confused.

_Why on Earth would he be jealous of Sam? _I shake my head in disbelief.

* * *

><p>I glance at the alarm clock and realize it's five after eight. I decide to head upstairs to grab myself some clothes to wear to work tomorrow. As I enter the bedroom, I walk straight into the closet, and I find that it is empty.<p>

_Well, that will be you and your big mouth. _My subconscious says as she glares at me. _But why did he take me at my word and so seriosuly? _

My mother's advice comes back to haunt me, '_Men are so literal, darling.' _I pout, staring at the empty space. They were some lovely clothes, too. _Like the dress I wore to the ball._

I wander disconsolately into the bedroom... _Wait a minute—what is going on here? _The iPad is gone. _Where is my Mac? Oh no! _My first uncharitable thought is that Alex may have stolen them.

I fly back downstairs and back into Vincent's bedroom. On the bedside table are my Mac, my iPad, and my satchel. _It's all here! _I open the walk-in closet door and my clothes are here—_all of them!-_sharing space with Vincent's clothes.

_When did this happen? Why does he never warn me before doing things like this?_

I close the doors and turn. Vincent is standing in the doorway. "Ah, they finally managed the move." he mutters, distracted.

"What's wrong?" I ask. His face is grim.

"Sam thinks Alex was getting in through the emergency stairwell. She must have had a key. But, there is nothing to worry about now, all the locks have been changed. Sam's team has done a sweep of every room in the apartment. She's not here." He pauses and runs a hand through his unruly, sexy, chocolate brown hair, then sighs. "I wish I knew where she was. She's evading all our attempts to find her when she truly needs help." He frowns, and my earlier pique vanishes. I wrap my arms around his neck as he folds me into his embrace, and he kisses my forehead.

"What will you do when you find her?" I ask.

"Dr. Marks has a place for her to go to." he sighs.

"What about her husband?"

"He's washed his hands clean of her. He doesn't want to get involved." Vincent's tone is bitter. "Her family is in Connecticut. I think she's very much on her own out there right now."

"That's very sad." I whisper.

"Are you okay with all of your stuff being here? I want to share my room with you." he murmurs, changing the subject.

"Yes." I breathe.

"I want you sleeping in here with me. I don't have nightmares when you're with me." he says.

_What? Oh my God! Another confession? _"You have nightmares?" I ask, pulling away to look at him.

"Yes."

I tighten my hold around him. _Holy shit! More baggage. _My heart contracts for this man. "I was just getting my clothes ready for work tomorrow." I mutter.

"Work?!" Vincent exclaims as if it's a dirty word, and he releases me, glaring down at me.

"Yes, work." I reply, confused by his reaction.

He stares at me in complete incomprehension. "But, Alex—she's out there." he pauses. "I don't want you to go to work, Catherine."

_Excuse me?! _"That's ridiculous, Vincent! I have to go to work." I scoff.

"No, you don't."

"Vincent, this job is new to me, and I truly enjoy it. Of course I have to go to work." _What the hell is wrong with him?_

"No, you don't." he repeats, emphatically.

"Do you honestly think that I'm going to stay here twiddling my thumbs while you're off being Master of the Universe?" I hiss.

"Frankly... yes."

_Oh, Fifty, Fifty, Fifty... give me strength! _"Vincent, I need to go to work."

"No, you don't." _What is this? Is he a broken record or something?!_

"Yes. I. Do!" I say it slowly as if he's a child.

He scowls at me. "No! It's not safe."

"Vincent... I need to work for a living, and I'll be fine. Your overreacting!" I shout the last part.

"No, you don't have to work for a living. And how do you know you'll be fine?" He's almost shouting back.

I face-palm. _What the hell does he mean? He's going to support me?! Oh, this is beyond ridiculous! I've only known him, what? Five weeks?! _He's angry now, his brown eyes flamed with fire, but I don't really give a shit.

"For Heaven's sake, Vincent! Alex was standing at the end of your bed, and she didn't harm me. And yes, I do need to work. I don't want to be beholden to you. I've my student loans to pay."

His mouth presses into a grim line, as I place my hands on my hips. _I'm not budging on this! Who the fuck does he think he is?_

"Well, I don't want you going to work." he snarls.

"It's not up to you, Vincent. This is not you decision to make, but mine!"

He runs his hand through his hair as he stares at me. Seconds, then minutes tick by as we glare at each other.

"Dalton will come with you." he says.

_Dalton? Who's Dalton? _"Vincent, that's not necessary. You're being irrational!"

"Irrational?!" he growls. "Either he comes with you, or I'll be_ really_ irrational and tie you to a damn chair!"

_Would he? _

"You wouldn't dare!" I growl.

_He wouldn't!_

"You sure about that, Miss Chandler?" he raises a brow, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

_He so would!_

"Alright! Fine!" I concede, holding both of my hands up, placating him. "Dalton, whoever the fuck that is, can come with me, if it makes you feel better." I concede again, rolling my eyes.

Vincent narrows his and takes a menacing step in my direction. I immediately step back. He stops and takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and runs both of his hands through his hair. "I didn't mean to frighten you." he says, reaching out hesitantly for my hand.

"You didn't." I whisper, giving him my hand as he intertwines our fingers together, pulling me towards him where he wraps his arms around me. "But I must admit, I was about to run."

"Run?" he pulls back, his eyes widen.

"I'm kidding!" I giggle. _Oh jeez!_

He kisses me softly and slowly. Our tongues touch briefly, yet softly compared to previous ones. He pulls away, humming his satisfaction from our kiss and gazes deeply into my eyes. "Come with me." he whispers. And I do just that.

He leads me out of the bedroom and I try to fully calm myself down. Adrenaline is still spiking through my veins. _Damn, a fight with Fifty is not to be undertaken lightly._

* * *

><p>He gives me a tour of the apartment, showing me the various rooms—<em>along with the playroom<em>—and three spare bedrooms upstairs. I'm intrigued that Sam and Mrs. Jones have a wing to themselves. A kitchen, spacious living area, and a bedroom each. Mrs. Jones has not yet returned from visiting her sister, whom lives in Portland.

Downstairs, the room that catches my eye is opposite to Vincent's study. A TV room with a too-large plasma screen and assorted game consoles. It's actually... cozy.

"Wow. So, Master of his Universe _does_ have an Xbox?" I smirk.

"Yep, but I'm crap at it. JT always beats me." he chuckles before continuing. "I still can't believe you thought that _this_ was my playroom." He grins down at me, his snit-fit forgotten. _Praise Jesus that he's recovered his good mood._

"I'm glad you find me funny, Mr. Keller." I respond haughtily.

"That you are, Miss Chandler. That is, when you're not being exasperating, of course."

"I'm usually exasperating when you're being unreasonable." I smile innocently.

"Me? Unreasonable?"

"Yes, Mr. Keller. Unreasonable could be your middle name."

He chuckles. "I think that's a matter of opinion, Miss Chandler."

"I would be interested in Dr. Marks' professional opinion." I murmur.

Vincent smirks. "Come." he commands. I follow him out of the TV room through the great room to the main corridor past the utility room and an impressive wine cellar and into Sam's own large, well-equipped office. Sam stands when we enter. There's room in here for a meeting table that seats six. Above one desk is a bank of monitors. I had no idea the apartment had CCTV. It appears to monitor the balcony, stairwell, service elevator, and foyer.

"Hi, Sam. Just giving Catherine a tour." Vincent murmurs. Sam nods, but doesn't smile. I wonder if he's been told off, too. _And why is he still working? _When I smile at him, he nods politely.

* * *

><p>Vincent grabs my hand once more and leads me to the library. "And, of course, you've been in here." Vincent opens the door. I spy the green baize of the billiard table.<p>

"Shall we play?" I ask.

Vincent smiles, surprised. "Okay. Have you played before?"

"A few times." I lie. If I was honest, I had only played once or twice with Patrick. He narrows his eyes at me, cocking his head to one side. "You're a hopeless liar, Catherine. Either you've never played before or—"

I lick my lips. "Frightened of a little competition?"

"Frightened of a tiny woman like you?" he scoffs. "Not hardly, Miss Chandler."

"A wager, Mr. Keller." I smile, raising one brow in amusement. _Boy, this is gonna be fun._

"You're that confident, Catherine?" He smirks, amused and incredulous at once. "What would you like to wager?" he adds.

"If I win, you'll take me back into the playroom." I whisper, seductively.

He gazes at me as if he can't quite comprehend what I've just said. "And if I win?" he asks after several agonizing seconds.

"Then it's your choice." I mutter.

His mouth twists as he contemplates his answer. "Okay, deal." He smirks. "Do you want to play Pool, English Snooker, or Carom Billiards?"

"Pool, please. I don't know the others." I giggle.

From a cupboard beneath one of the bookshelves, Vincent takes out a large leather case. Inside, the pool balls are nested in velvet. Quickly and efficiently, he racks the balls on the baize. I don't think I've ever played pool on such a large table before.

Vincent hands me a cue and some chalk. "Would you like to break, Miss Chandler?" He feigns politeness. He's enjoying himself—_and he thinks he's going to win. Pfft!_

"Okay." I shrug. I chalk the end of my cue, and blow the excess chalk off, staring up at Vincent through my eyelashes as I do. His eyes darken, and my breath hitches.

_Oh, this is going to be VERY fun... Hmm, the things I could do to you? Let's find out, Keller!_

I line up on the white ball and with a swift clean stroke, I hit the center ball of the triangle, square on with such force that a striped ball spins and plunges into the top right pocket. I've scattered the rest of the balls. "I choose stripes." I say innocently, smiling coyly at Vincent.

His mouth twists in amusement. "Be my guest, Catherine." he says politely.

I proceed to pocket the next three balls in quick succession. Inside, I'm dancing. At this moment, I'm so grateful to Patrick for teaching me how to play pool, and how to do it... well. Vincent watches impassively, giving nothing away, but his amusement seems to ebb.

I thrust my arm and I miss the green striped ball I was aiming for by a hairsbreadth.

"You know, Catherine." Vincent says in his most soothing, soft seducing tones. "I could stand here and watch you lean and stretch across this billiard table all day." he says appreciatively.

I gasp. _Thank God I'm wearing jeans. Not that it would stop him. _He smirks. _Oh, I get it. He's trying to distract me! _And sadly, it's beginning to work.

He pulls his sweater over his head, tosses it onto the back of one of the nearby chairs, and grins at me as he saunters over to take his first shot. He bends over the table and my mouth goes dry. _Oh, dear God! I see what he means now... _Vincent in dark jeans, which hugs his perfect ass in all the right ways and his white T-shirt, snuggling to his skin, showing off his beautiful sculptured abs, chest and arms. And of course, he's bending over the billiard table... _it's truly something to behold. _I quite lose my train of thought momentarily. He sinks four solids rapidly, then fouls by sinking the white one.

"A very elementary mistake, Mr. Keller." I tease, batting my eyes at him.

He smiles his glorious smile. "Ah, Miss Chandler, I'm but a foolish mortal. Your go, I do believe." He waves at the table.

"You're not trying to lose are you?" I raise a brow and bite my lip, purposefully.

"Oh, no. For what I have in mind as he prize, I want to win, Catherine." He shrugs casually. "But then again, I always want to win." he chuckles.

I narrow my eyes at him. _Right then... _I'm so glad I'm wearing my blue blouse, which is pleasantly low-cut. I stalk around the table, bending low at every available opportunity—giving Vincent an eyeful of my ass and my cleavage whenever I can. And all on purpose. _Two can play the seduction game, Keller! _I glance at him.

"I know what you're doing, Catherine." he whispers, his eyes three shades darker.

I tilt my head coquettishly to one side, gently fondling my cue, running my hand up and down it slowly. "Oh, I'm just deciding where to take my next shot." I murmur darkly, and distractedly.

Leaning across, I hit the orange stripe ball into a better position. I then stand directly in front of Vincent and take the rest from underneath the table. I line my next shot, leaning right over the table. I hear Vincent's sharp intake of breath, and of course, I miss. _Shit!_

He comes to stand behind me while I'm still bent over the table and places his hand on my ass, sliding his long fingers into my back pocket. _Hmm..._

"Are you waving this..." he squeezes my left buttock, "around to taunt me, Miss Chandler?" And then his hand is gone. _Smack!__! _

_Mmm, that felt so good. _"Yes!" I gasp, because it's true.

"Be careful what you wish for, baby." he breathes into my ear, nipping it once with his teeth. My eyes close and I begin panting.

_Taunting you, eh, Keller? _

I rub my behind as he wanders to the other end of the table. He leans over, and takes his shot. _Jesus! The way his back muscles flex when he does that. _I squeeze my legs together as I become wet down below. My breath hitches when he looks up at me and smirks. He hits the red ball, and it shoots into the left side pocket. He aims for the yellow solid, top right, and it misses.

I bite my lip and grin. "Red Room here we come." I taunt him.

He merely raises an eyebrow and directs me to continue. I make quick work of the green striped ball and by some fluke, manage to knock in the final orange striped ball.

"Name your pocket." Vincent murmurs, and it's as if he's talking about something else—_something dark and rude, perhaps?_

"Top left-hand." I take aim over the black solid, hit it, but I miss. It skirts wide. _Dammit!_

Vincent smiles a wicked grin as he leans over the table and makes short work of the two remaining solids. I'm practically panting, watching him. His lithe body stretching over the table. _Oh, please! _

He stands and chalks his cue, his eyes burning into me. "If I win, Catherine..."

_Oh, yes?_

"I'm going to spank you, then fuck you over this billiard table."

_Holy shit! Take me to church! _Every single muscle south of my navel clenches hard.

"Top right." he murmurs, pointing to the black solid ball, and bends to take the shot. With easy grace, Vincent taps the white ball so that it glides across the table. It kisses the black ball and oh-so-slowly the black ball rolls, teeters on the edge, and finally drops into the top right pocket of the billiard table.

_Dammit, he won..._

He stands, and his mouth twists in a triumphant I-so-own-you-Chandler smile. Putting down his cue, he slowly, yet agonizingly saunters casually toward me. All tousled hair, his sexy jeans, and white T-shirt. He doesn't look like a CEO, he looks like a bad-to-the-bone sex god from the wrong side of town. _For the love of God, help me! He's so fucking sexy!_

"You're not going to be a sore loser, are you, Catherine?" he murmurs, barely containing his grin.

"Depends how hard you spank me." I whisper, holding on to my cue for support. He takes my cue and puts it to one side, hooks his finger into the top of my shirt, and pulls me toward him.

"Well, Miss Chandler, why don't we start by counting your misdemeanors." He says, and he begins to count with his fingers. "One, making my jealous of my own staff."

_Oh, Jesus!_

"Two, arguing with me about working."

_Oh, Vincent please!_

"And three, waving your delectable ass at me for the last twenty minutes."

_Just fuck me already!_

His eyes glow a soft brown with excitement, and leaning down, he rubs my nose with his. "I want you to take your jeans and this fetching shirt off... Now." He plants a feather-soft kiss on my lips, wanders nonchalantly over to the door, and locks it.

_Fuck. Me._

When he turns and gazes at me, his eyes are burning with desire. I stand paralyzed like a complete zombie, my heart pounding with force against my chest, as liquid fire courses through my veins. I'm unable to move a damn muscle. In my mind, all I can think is—_this is for him—_the thought repeating like a mantra over and over again.

"Clothes, Catherine. You appear to still be wearing them. Take them off... or I'll do it for you."

"Then do it." I snap, finding my voice finally, and it sounds low and heated.

Vincent grins. "Oh, Miss Chandler. It's a dirty job, but I think I can rise to the challenge." he murmurs.

"You normally rise to most challenges, Mr. Keller." I raise an eyebrow at him, and he smirks.

"Whatever do you mean, Miss Chandler?" He says. On his way over to me, he pauses at the small desk built into one of the bookshelves. Reaching over, he picks up a twelve-inch ruler. He holds each end and flexes it, his eyes not leaving mine.

_Holy shit! His weapon of choice. _My mouth goes dry. Suddenly, I'm hot and bothered and damp in all of the right places. Only Vincent could turn me on with just a look and the flex of a ruler.

He slips it into his back pocket of his jeans and ambles toward me, eyes dark and full of hunger. Without saying a word, he drops to his knees in front of me and starts to undo the laces of my shoes, quickly and efficiently, dragging both shoes and socks off with ease. I lean back on the side of the billiard table so that I don't fall.

Gazing down at him, I marvel at the depth of feelings that I have for this beautiful flawed man. _I love him, and he loves me._

He grabs my hips, slips his fingers into the waistband of my jeans, and undoes the button and zipper. He peers up through his long lashes, grinning his most salacious grin as he slowly peels me jeans off. I step out of them, glad that I'm wearing these pretty, pretty panties, and he grasps the back of my legs and runs his nose along the apex of my thighs. I practically melt.

"Mmm, you smell so good, Catherine." he breathes.

_Oh, my... _

He kisses me... _there! _And I moan softly as I tip my head back.

Suddenly, he grabs my left ankle and raises my leg up and over his shoulder. "I need to taste you, Catherine." he whispers and I groan in response. He pulls my panties to the side and slips a finger inside of me. "So wet, Miss Chandler." and I manage to comb my fingers through his hair.

And without warning, he crushes his mouth onto my sex, sucking on it, and I throw my head back as I whimper his name. He kisses and teases with his tongue, occasionally circling, sucking and nipping my clitoris.

"Ohhh, God-dd-d, Vincent... Please!" I whine as he begins darting his tongue in and out of my opening. I fist his hair tighter and he groans loudly as he pulls back away from me, putting my leg back down. I'm panting and whimpering from his absence and I can practically feel his smile, rather than see it.

"I want to be quite rough with you, Catherine." He places a soft kiss onto my hip-bone, and I whimper a growl. "You'll have to tell me to stop if it's too much." he kisses me again.

"Safe word?" I moan as he licks along my panty line to my other hip.

"No... no safe word. Just tell me to stop, and I'll stop. Understand?" He kisses my sex again, nuzzling me at the same time. _Oh, I'm going to come! Please! _

He stands, his gaze intense. "Answer me." he orders softly.

"Yes... yes, I understand." I'm puzzled by his insistence.

"You've been dropping hints and giving me mixed signals all day, Catherine." he says. "You said you were worried that I'd lost my edge. I'm not sure what you meant by that, and I don't know how serious you were, but we are going to find out. Right here. Right now." _Oh, dear God, just fuck me already! _"I don't want to go back to the playroom yet, so we can try this instead. But if you don't like it, Catherine, you must promise to tell me."

A burning intensity born of his anxiety replaces his earlier cockiness. _Oh, Vincent, please don't be anxious. _"I'll tell you. No safe word." I reassure him.

"We're lovers, Catherine. Lovers don't need safe words." He frowns. "Do they?"

"I guess not." I whisper. _Jeez! How would I know? _"I promise, Vincent."

He searches my face for any clue that I might lack the courage of my convictions, and I'm nervous but excited too. I'm happier to do this knowing that he loves me. It's very simple to me, and right now, I don't want to over-think it.

A slow smile spreads across his face, and he starts to unbutton my shirt, his deft fingers making short work of it, though he doesn't take it off. He leans over and picks up the cue stick.

_Holy Mother of God! What's he going to do with that? _A frisson of fear runs through me.

"You play well, Miss Chandler. I must say, I'm surprised. Why don't you sink the black solid for me?" he murmurs.

My fear is now forgotten. I pout, wondering why the hell he should be surprised—_sexy, arrogant bastard!_

I position the white ball. Vincent strolls back around the table and stands right behind me as I lean over to take my shot. He places his hand on my right thigh and runs his fingers up and down my leg, up to my behind and back again, lightly stroking me.

"I'm going to miss if you keep doing that." I whisper, closing my eyes and relishing the feel of his hands on me.

"I don't care if you hit or miss, babe. I just wanted to see you like this..." he breathes into my ear.

_Yes..._

"Partially dressed..." he nibbles my lobe.

_Y-yes..._

"Stretched out on my billiard table." he bites the flesh of my neck below my ear. I moan.

_YEEESSSSS!_

"Do you have any idea how smoking hot you look at this very moment, Catherine?" he shudders in a whisper.

I flush, and my inner goddess grabs a rose between her teeth and starts to tango. Taking a deep breath, I try to ignore him and line up my shot. _It's impossible!_ He caresses my ass, over and over again.

"Top left." I murmur, then hit white ball. _Smack!_ He hits me squarely on my backside. Its so unexpected that I yelp in pleasure. The white ball hits the black, which bounces off the cushion wide of the pocket.

Vincent caresses my behind again. "Oh, I think you need to try that again." he whispers. "You should concentrate, Catherine."

I'm panting now, excited by this game. He strolls to the end of the table, sets up the black ball again, then runs the white ball back down to me. He looks so carnal, dark eyed with a lascivious smile. _How could I ever resist this man? _

I catch the ball and line it up, ready to strike again.

"Uh-uh." he admonishes. "Just wait." _Oh, he just loves prolonging the agony! _He wanders back and stands behind me again. I close my eyes once more as he strokes my left thigh this time, then fondles my ass again. "Take aim, baby." he breathes into my ear, sending shivers down my spine. _He's fucking torturing me!_

I moan as desire twists and turns inside of me. I shift slightly to my right, and he follows me. I bend over the table once more. Using every last vestige of inner strength—_which has diminished considerably since I know what will happen once I strike the white ball—_I take aim and hit the white ball again. _Smack! _It's even harder this time.

_Ow! _I missed again. "Oh, no!" I groan.

"Once more, babe. And if you miss this time, I'm really going to let you have it."

_What?! Have what?_

He sets up the black ball again and walks, achingly slow, back to me until he's standing behind me, caressing my ass once more. "You can do it." he coaxes.

_Not when your distracting me like this! _I push my behind back against his hand, and he smacks me lightly. "Eager, Miss Chandler?" he murmurs.

_Yes! I fucking want you!_

"Well, let's get rid of these." He gently slides my panties down my thighs and I step out of them. I can't see what he does with them, but he leaves me feeling exposed as he plants a soft kiss on each cheek. "Take the shot, baby." he bites one cheek then the other. _Oh, please!_

I line up the white ball, hit it, and in my impatience, miss the black ball completely. I wait for the blow, but it doesn't come. Instead, he leans right over me, flattening me against the table, and takes the cue out of my hand, rolling it to the side cushion. I can feel him, hard, against my ass.

"You missed." he says softly in my ear. My cheek is pressed against the baize. "Put your hands flat on the table, Catherine."

I do as I'm told.

"Good. I'm going to spank you now and next time, maybe you won't." He shifts so he's standing to my left side, his erection against my hip. I groan in anticipation and my heart leaps into my throat. My breath comes in short pants and hot, heavy excitement courses through my veins. Gently, he caresses my behind and curls his other hand around the nape of my neck, his fingers fisting in my hair, and his elbow is at my back holding me down. I'm completely helpless.

"Open your legs." he murmurs and for a moment, I hesitate. _Smack! _He strikes me hard with the ruler. The noise is harsher than the sting, and it takes me by surprise. I gasp, and hit me again. _Smack!_

"Legs." he orders. I open my legs, panting. The ruler strikes again. _Ow! It stings! _But honestly it sounds worse than it feels.

I close my eyes and absorb the pain. It's not that bad at all. Vincent's breathing becomes harsher. _Smack! Smack! _"Oh, Vincent!" I moan, loudly.

This is beginning to turn me on now and it seems so wrong, yet so right at the same time."Again." I whisper. And it's in this moment that I realize that I've crossed over into the dark side, a place in my psyche that I don't know well, but have visited before in the playroom.

_Smack! _"Yes!" I scream. Vincent groans in response.

_Smack! Smack! Smack! Harder and harder..._ I wince. "Stop!" The word is out of my mouth before I'm even aware that I've said it. Vincent drops the ruler immediately and releases me.

"Enough?" he whispers.

"Yes." I pant, turning around, facing him as I lean back onto the table.

"I want to fuck you now." he says, his voice strained with need.

I take a step closer to him and wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him. "Then fuck me, Vincent... hard." I breathe into his mouth. He moans and deepens the kiss as he bends his knees and grabs the backs of my thighs, lifting me up and sitting me on the edge of the billiard table.

"You want me?" he growls.

"Yes, please." I pant between kisses. He growls into my mouth and slides his hands up my legs, stopping at my knees, then pushes my legs wide open. I gasp as his lips make it down to my neck and he nips and sucks a trail down to the tops of my breasts.

He eases two fingers inside of me. "Tell me what you want, Catherine."

"Y-Y-You." I whimper as he pumps in and out of me.

He stills. Looking up into my eyes. "Be. More. Specific."

"If I was being honest, I would say that I wanted to ride you senseless on the damn floor." I say as I grind my sex onto his front. He moans, pulling my hair, ravaging my mouth, fucking it with his tongue.

He collapses to the floor, taking me with him, not breaking our kiss. He pulls out a foil packet from his pocket and breaks the kiss to look at me. "You know what to do." he murmurs. And I slide down his body, taking his pants and boxers with me.

He springs free, and I lick my lips. I rip open the foil and roll the condom down onto his erection. And slowly, yet deliciously, I sink down slowly onto him. "Oh..." I whimper, closing my eyes.

He grabs my hips and thrusts upward. "Ride me." he commands and I push my self up then back down, slowly. Each time I lower myself, he swivels his hips, pulling down on my hips. _Oh, it feels so much deeper this way!_

I pick up my pace, grasping his forearms as I rock my hips hard and fast. He throws me over, climbing on top of me as he slowly sinks back inside. Now he's the one in charge, and honestly I don't really mind. His thrusts become deeper and quicker. The sound of our bodies coming together echoes in the room along with our breathless grunts and moans in between.

"You like that?" he groans.

"Yes." I whimper, reaching down to grab his ass, pushing him deeper inside of me. "Don't stop!"

"Say it, Catherine. Tell me you love it when I fuck you." his thrusts deepen and I'm already seeing stars.

"I love it when you fuck me, Vincent!" I nearly combust as I scream the words loudly. "Oh, God! I love you, Vincent!" I add.

My insides begin to quicken and I know he feels it too. He increases the rhythm, pushing me, higher, harder, and faster.

"Come with me, Catherine." he groans. And I surrender, exploding around him. It's a draining, soul-grabbing orgasm that leaves me spent and exhausted. I'm vaguely aware that Vincent has climaxed with me, shouting my name as if it were a prayer. His fingers are digging into my hips, then he stills and collapses on top of me.

He rolls over and cradles me in his arms. "Thank you, Cat." he breathes, covering my face in feather-light kisses. I open my eyes and gaze up at him, and he wraps his arms tighter around me. "Your cheek is pink from the baize." he murmurs, rubbing my face tenderly. "How was that?" His eyes are wide and cautious.

"Teeth-clenchingly good." I mutter. "I like it rough, Vincent... and I like it gentle, too. And I _love_ that both worlds are shared with you."

He closes his eyes and hugs me even tighter. "You never fail, Catherine. You're beautiful, bright, challenging, fun, sexy, and I thank divine providence every day that it was you that came to interview me and not Tess Vargas." He kisses my cheek. I smile and yawn against his chest. "I'm wearing you out." he continues. "Come. Bath, then bed."

* * *

><p><em><strong>**Again, sorry for the longgggg wait guys. I have had sick kids, and been sick. Plus, I started my first Fifty Shades Trilogy fic. Anyways, not sure when I'll be able to update again. Oh, and I went ahead and labled Guilty Pleasures as complete. I just can't get a full chapter out of it anymore. I'm so sorry. XOXO! LOVE YOU GUYS! Reviews, please. Even guests reviews are working now since I updated my profile. So give me some love! Love you guys! Just so you all know, I changed the sex scene a bit o.o I wonder who can guess where? Hehe!**<strong>_


	39. Chapter 39

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><strong>*WARNING: The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, graphic sexual content, and DOMSUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Extra: I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>*<strong>**Summary: ****(A/U) – -****Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his mul****t****inational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: Sorry for the long wait guys. I have been busy with endless sch work and the kids have Valentine's Day events coming up at their school so my hands have been tied lol. Plus, I've been writing on my new FSOG story "Floggers". I will try to post two chapters this week on this story, but if I don't please don't fret because I could never forget about you guys! Love you all! XOXO! Also, I am going to try to shorten this a bit and skim through some parts to get the drama going and out of the way lol. I know its short and im sorry. Please don't hate me for it. I hope you like it. Enjoy!)**

_**Italics represent Catherine's thoughts and Flashbacks!**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 39-<strong>_

We're both sitting in Vincent's bath, facing each other chin-deep in foam. The sweet scent of jasmine envelopes us. Vincent is massaging my feet, one at a time, and it feels so good that it should be illegal.

"Can I ask you something?" I murmur.

"Of course. Anything, Cat. You know that."

I take a deep breath and sit up, flinching only slightly to the hot water. "Tomorrow, when I go to work, can Dalton just deliver me to the front door of the office then pick me up at the end of the day? Please, Vincent?" I plead.

His hands still on my feet as his brow creases. "I thought we already agreed." he grumbles.

"Please?" I beg.

"What about lunchtime?" he asks.

I sigh. "I'll make myself something to take from here so I don't have to go out, please."

He kisses my instep. "I find it very difficult to say no to you." he mutters as if he senses this is a failing on his part, "You won't go out?"

"No."

"Alright." he sighs.

I beam at him for a moment. "Thank you." I lean up onto my knees, sloshing water everwhere, and kiss him.

"You're most welcome, Miss Chandler. How's your ass?" he smirks.

I raise a brow at him. "Sore, but not too bad. The water is very soothing."

"I'm glad that you told me to stop." he whispers, gazing at me.

I smile. "And so is my ass."

He laughs, grabbing my wrist, and pulling me over on top of him and begins kissing me passionately.

* * *

><p>The next day, I ponder about the events of my day as I sit quietly next to Master of the Universe himself in the black Audi SUV.<p>

I must admit, the day started out calm, cool, and collective. I woke up next to the most beautiful man in the world, and I showered and dressed into one of my favorite outfits; a black pencil skirt, ocean-blue silk button up blouse, and high-heeled black pumps, all care of my new wardrobe. I wore my hair up today in a high pony-tail as well. When Vincent and I went our separate ways this morning, everything between us was perfectly fine. We kissed each other good-bye, and wished each other well for the day. Hell, Gail even packed me a damn lunch.

When I arrived at work this morning, I switched on my computer and fired up my email program to find that Vincent had already sent me an email. I was completely shocked when I read it. He practically asked me to move in with him!

…_..thank you for a wonderful weekend in spite of all the drama. I hope you never leave, ever._

He said it! And honestly I don't know how I feel about that at all.

I gave in and asked him if that was what he meant, and before I received his response, Gabe interrupted everything...

* * *

><p>"<em>Cat!" Gabe makes me jump.<em>

"_Yes?" I flush, and Gabe frowns at me._

"_Everything okay?" he asks._

"_Yep. Peachy." I scramble up and take my notebook into his office._

"_Good. As you probably remember, I'm going to that Commissioning Fiction Symposium in New York on Thursday. I have tickets and reservations, but I'd really like it if you came with me."_

_I gasp. "To New York?"_

"_Yeah. We'll need to go Wednesday and stay overnight. I think you'll find it a very educational experience." His eyes darken as he says this, but his smile is polite. "Would you make the necessary travel arrangements? And book an additional room at the hotel where I'm staying? I think Sabrina, my previous PA, left all the details handy somewhere." he smiles._

"_Okay." I sigh, smiling wanly at Gabe._

_I knew Vincent was not going to like the idea of me going to New York. He did mention that he, in fact, wants me to move in with him. I just find it to be a little too soon._

_Finally, I swallow my guts and mention the New York trip to him... his answer completely floored me..._

* * *

><p><em><strong>From: <strong>Vincent Keller_

_**Subject: **You Haven't Seen Shouty, Yet!_

_**Date: **June 13, 2011 09:35_

_**To: **Catherine Chandler_

_If it's with the sleazeball you work for, then the answer is no._

_Over. My. Dead. Body!_

_Vincent Keller_

_CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc._

* * *

><p><em>My heart sinks. Dammit! It's like he's my father, or something!<em>

* * *

><p><em><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler_

_**Subject:** YOU Haven't Seen Shouty Yet!_

_**Date: **June 13, 2011 09:46_

_**To:** Vincent Keller_

_Yes, it's with Gabriel._

_I want to go! It's an exciting opportunity for me!_

_And I have never been to New York before. _

_Sheesh, Keller! Don't get your knickers in a twist!_

_Catherine Chandler_

_Assistant to Gabriel Lowan, Commissioning Editor, SIP_

* * *

><p><em><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller_

_**Subject: **No YOU Haven't Seen Shouty Yet!_

_**Date:** June 13, 2011 09:50_

_**To: **Catherine Chandler_

_Catherine,_

_It's not my fucking knickers I am worried about!_

_The answer is NO._

_Vincent Keller_

_CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings Inc._

* * *

><p><em>I am beyond pissed at this point! How dare he sit there and tell me what to do?<em>

* * *

><p><em><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler_

_**Subject:** Fifty Shades_

_**Date: **June 13, 2011 09:55_

_**To: **Vincent Keller_

_Vincent,_

_Get a fucking grip!_

_I am NOT going to sleep with Gabe—not for all of the tea in China!_

_What part of I LOVE YOU, don't you understand? You know, when people LOVE each other, they TRUST each other!_

_I don't think you are going to SLEEP WITH, SPANK, FUCK, and/or WHIP anyone else. I have FAITH and TRUST in you._

_Please extend the same COURTESY to me!_

_Catherine Chandler_

_Assistant to Gabriel Lowan, Commissioning Editor, SIP_

* * *

><p><em>My phone rings and wearily I lift my head from my hands and answer, glancing at the clock. It's only ten twenty, and already I wish I hadn't left Vincent's bed. <em>

"_Gabriel Lowan's office, Catherine Chandler speaking."_

_An achingly familiar voice snarls at me, "Will you please delete the last email you sent me and try to be a little more circumspect in the language you use in your work email? I told you, the system is monitored. I shall endeavor to do some damage limitation from here." he hangs up._

_WTF?! I sit staring at the phone. Vincent fucking hung up on me! That man is stomping all over my fledgling career, and he hangs up on me?! Pfft!_

_I open my emails and delete my last message to him. It's really not all that bad. Jeez, if he's so ashamed of it, he damn well shouldn't do it!_

_I pick up my BlackBerry and call the arrogant bastard back._

"_What?!" he snaps._

"_I'm going to New York whether you like it or not!" I hiss._

"_Don't count—" _

_I hang up. There, that should teach him!_

* * *

><p>But honestly, it didn't teach him a damn thing except how to make matters worse. And boy did he add the fuel to the fire...<p>

* * *

><p>"<em>Cat!" Gabe shouts, startling me. "Don't book that flight!"<em>

_What? "Too late. I've already booked it." I reply as Gabe strides out of his office and heads over towards me. Uh-oh, he looks pissed._

"_Look, there's something going on. For some reason, suddenly, all travel and hotel expenses for staff have to be approved by senior management. This has come right from the top. I'm going up to see old Roach about it. Apparently, a moratorium on all spending has just been implemented. I just don't understand it." Gabe says, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes._

_The blood has officially drained from my face and knots have formed in my stomach. VINCENT!_

"_Take my calls. I'll go see what Roach has to say about all of this." Gabe winks at me and strides off to see his boss—not the boss's boss._

_Damn it, Vincent Keller! My blood starts to boil again..._

* * *

><p><em><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler_

_**Subject:** What Have You Done?!_

_**Date:** June 13, 2011 10:43_

_**To: **Vincent Keller_

_Please tell me you didn't interfere with my work._

_I really want to go to this conference! And I shouldn't have to ask you!_

_I've deleted the offending email, by the way._

_Catherine Chandler_

_Assistant to Gabriel Lowen, Commissioning Editor, SIP_

* * *

><p><em><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller_

_**Subject:** What Have You Done?_

_**Date: **June 13, 2011 10:46_

_**To:** Catherine Chandler_

_I am just protecting what is MINE, Catherine._

_The email that you so rashly sent is wiped from the SIP server now, as are my emails to you._

_Incidentally, I trust you implicitly. It's Mr. Lowan that I don't trust!_

_Vincent Keller_

_CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings Inc._

* * *

><p><em><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler_

_**Subject:** Grow Up!_

_**Date: **June 13, 2011 10:48_

_**To:** Vincent Keller_

_Vincent,_

_I don't need protection from my own boss!_

_He may make a pass at me, but I shall simply decline. _

_You can't do this! You can't interfere because it's wrong and controlling on so many levels!_

_Catherine Chandler_

_Assistant to Gabriel Lowan, Commissioning Editor, SIP_

* * *

><p><em><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller_

_**Subject: **The Answer is NO!_

_**Date:** June 13, 2011 10:50_

_**To:** Catherine Chandler_

_Catherine,_

_I've seen how "effective" you are with fighting off unwanted attention. I clearly remember that's how I had the pleasure of spending my first night with you. At least the photographer has feelings for you. The sleazeball, on the other hand, does not! He's a serial philanderer, and he'll try to seduce you—in any way, form, or fashion. _

_If you don't believe me, then ask him what happened to his previous PA and the one before that._

_I don't want to fight about this._

_If you want to go to New York, I'll take you. We can go this weekend if that is what your heart desires. I actually have an apartment there. Please, Catherine. Trust me._

_Vincent Keller_

_CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc._

* * *

><p>I didn't even continue to argue with him there. It was an argument that he was not going to allow me to win. He just doesn't get it! I wanted to go to the conference in New York, not just the fact that I wanted to go to New York. <em>Ugh!<em>

At around one that evening, Gabe had arranged for me to go out and grab him lunch. And when Vincent found out, boy was he pissed...

* * *

><p><em>I force a smile and rush back into my office after delivering Gabe's lunch to him. I pull out the tuna sandwich that Gail had prepared for me and suddenly, my work phone begins ringing.<em>

"_Gabriel Lowan's office—"_

"_You promised me that you wouldn't go out." Vincent interrupts me, his voice cold and hard._

_How the hell did he know?!_

"_Gabe sent me out for some lunch. I couldn't say no. Are you having me watched now?" My scalp prickles at the notion. No wonder I felt so paranoid while walking to the deli moments ago. The mere thought makes me angry._

"_This is why I didn't want you going back to work." Vincent snaps._

"_Vincent! Stop this, NOW! You're being so suffocating!" I hiss._

"_Suffocating?" he whispers, surprised._

"_Yes! You have to stop this controlling crap. I'll talk to you this evening, but right now, I want to enjoy my damn lunch! Oh, and just so you know—since I can't go to New York—I have to work late. So I won't be ready until around seven thirty instead of five."_

_He sighs. "Catherine, I don't want to suffocate you, baby." he murmurs, hurt evident in his tone._

"_Well, you are." I snap. I rub my forehead as I drown my lungs with a huge gulp of air. "Look, I have work to do. I'll talk to you later, Vincent." and I hang up, feeling drained and vaguely depressed._

* * *

><p>Quite honestly, I felt like running away to somewhere quiet. I should have known that after a wonderful weekend like we'd had was too good to be true. His control freak tendencies are still in full- fling and I doubt that there is anything that I can do to change that. I sigh.<p>

By the end of the day, Gabe completely freaked me out by his seductively sick proximity and creepy gazes, and I finally realized that Vincent was actually... right. I guess I'm thankful after all that I didn't have to go to New York with Gabe. Oh, and now he knows my boyfriend is Vincent Keller. Which is why he backed off from me.

But now, Vincent and I continue to sit quietly in the SUV, heading home. I still haven't said anything to him; nor has he said anything to me. Hell, we haven't even touched each other, or kissed... _NOTHING!_

"Are you still mad at me?" Vincent breaks the silence.

I stare out the window on my side of the vehicle. I sigh heavily. "I don't know." I whisper. He clasps my hand with his and reaches it up to his lips and places soft, butterfly kisses along my knuckles. My heart thaws a little by this gesture.

"It's been a shitty day." he says.

"Yes, it has." I murmur. And for the first time since this morning, I begin to relax. Just being in his company is soothing.

"It's better now that you're here." he whispers and I nod. Then we sit in silence the rest of the way home, Vincent gently running his thumb across my knuckles in a soft, soothing rhythm.

* * *

><p>Once we've returned to Escala, we enjoy a delicious meal together—prepared by Gail—in complete silence, I grab two wine flutes and pour us some wine.<p>

"Well, now that you're more docile, Miss Chandler, shall we discuss today's events?" Vincent murmurs as I hand him his wine.

I sigh as I take a seat next to him on one of the bar stools at the breakfast bar and sip on my wine. "I think you're the one who's more docile. I think I'm doing a good job in taming you." I smile, remembering the hot sex we had in the elevator on the way up to his apartment.

"Taming _me_?" he snorts, amused. I nod, causing him to frown as if he's reflecting on my words. "Yeah, well, _maybe_ you are, Catherine."

"You were right about Gabe." I whisper in one breath, tracing the rim of my wine flute. _That caught his attention._

"Did he touch you?" he snarls.

I shake my head. "No, and he won't, Vincent. I told him today that I'm your girlfriend and he backed off."

"You're sure? I could fire the fucker, you know." he says, taking a sip of his wine.

"Vincent, you really need to let me fight my own battles. You can't constantly second-guess me and try to protect me. It's stifling. I'll never flourish with your incessant interference. I need some freedom, and I wouldn't dream of meddling in your affairs."

He blinks at me. "I only want you safe, Catherine. If anything happened to you, I—"

"I know, and I understand why you feel so driven to protect me. And part of me loves it. I know that if I need you, that you'll be there for me, as I will be for you. But if we're to have any hope of a future together, you have to trust me and trust my judgment. Yes, I'll get it wrong sometimes, and I'll make mistakes, but I have to learn on my own." I look up at him.

He stares at me, his expression anxious, spurring me to walk around to him so that I'm standing in between his legs while he sits on the bar stool. Grabbing his hands, I place them around me and cup his face. "You can't interfere in my job. It's wrong, Vincent. I don't need you charging in like a white knight to save the day. I know you want to control everything, and I understand why, but you can't. It's just not possible... you have to learn to let go." I begin stoking his face as he gazes at me, his eyes wide. "And if you can do that—give me that trust—I'll move in with you." I add softly.

He inhales sharply, surprised. "You'd really do that?" he whispers.

"Yep." I giggle.

"But you hardly know me." He frowns and sounds chocked and panicky all of a sudden, very un-Fifty.

"I know you well enough, Vincent. Nothing you tell me about yourself will frighten me away." I smile, gently running my knuckles across his cheek. His expression turns from anxious to dubious. "But if you could just ease up on me." I plead.

"I'm trying, Catherine. I couldn't just stand by and let you go to New York with that... sleazeball. He has an alarming reputation. None of his assistants have lasted more than three months, and they're never retained by the company. I don't want that for you, babe." He sighs. "I don't want anything to happen to you. You being hurt... the thought fills me with dread. I can't promise not to interfere, not if I think you'll come to harm. He pauses and takes a deep breath. "Catherine, I love you. I will do everything in my power to protect you. I can't imagine my life without you."

I'm officially in shock. He said it... _Oh. My. God. He fucking said that he loved me! He actually said the damn words!_

"Oh, Vincent... I love you, too." I say crashing our lips together, kissing him like my life depends on it while wrapping my arms around his neck.

* * *

><p>I lay in bed, pondering once more about the events that unfolded since our last kiss. Gabriella came by soon after our make-out session—<em>fucking nasty bitch! <em>She ruined our brief moment because she was supposedly being blackmailed. Besides, she probably deserves it!

But on the bright side, Vincent stood up for _us_ when she shifted the conversation to our relationship...

* * *

><p>"<em>Since when are you so sensitive, Vincent?" she scolds.<em>

"_Gabriella, we have a business relationship which has profited us both immensely. Let's keep it that way. What we had is now part of the past. Catherine is my future, and I won't let you, nor anybody else jeopardize it in any way. So cut the crap, alright?"_

* * *

><p>Oh, how it felt so good to hear that sentence. <em>Catherine is my future... <em>

But after Pedo-Bitch left, things became rocky once again in the bedroom...

* * *

><p>"<em>Will you tell me more about her?" I ask, trying to understand how he thinks that she helped him. "Look, I loathe her, Vincent. In my opinion, I think that she did you untold damage. For example, you have no friends. Did she keep them away from you?"<em>

"_Why the hell do you want to know about her?!" Oh, shit. He's pissed... "We had a very long-standing affair, she beat the shit out of me—often—and we fucked in all sorts of ways that you can't even begin to imagine! End. Of. Story!"_

"_Why are you so angry?" I breathe, tears stinging my eyes._

"_Because all of that shit between Gabriella and I is OVER!" he shouts, glowering at me. The tears begin to silently fall and he sighs as he sits on the edge of the bed next to me._

"_What do you want to know?" he asks warily._

* * *

><p>I honestly didn't intend on upsetting him. I mean, for Christ sakes, I didn't think any of it would matter to him at all. He explained that he didn't mean to get upset with me. He said that this is the first time that he ever felt that he had to justify himself to anyone about his past, and that it seemed like his past and future were colliding in a way he didn't think was even possible. Hell, I didn't think I would be going head-on with his ghosts.<p>

And then more confessions came to the light...

* * *

><p>"<em>A long time ago, I thought I loved Gabriella." he says softly. And his facial expression tells me he is telling the truth.<em>

"_But when we was in Georgia, you said that you didn't love her." I murmur._

"_That's right." _

_What? Now I'm confused..._

"_I loved you then, Catherine." he whispers. "You're the only woman I'd fly three thousand miles to see."_

_Oh, my poor heart! I'm going to end up swooning myself to death!_

* * *

><p>He confesses that what he truly felt for Gabriella was desire. He fell in lust with her, which is completely different from what he says he feels for me. He says he feels much, much more for me.<p>

Did I mention that my Saab arrived to Escala today?...

* * *

><p>"<em>Oh, I almost forgot. Your car came a day early. It's in the garage and Sam has the key." Vincent states.<em>

"_Can I drive it to work tomorrow?" _

"_No."_

"_And why not?" I snap._

"_You know why not. Which reminds me... if you're going to leave your office, let me know. Dalton was there, watching you. It seems I can't trust you to look after yourself at all." He scowls down at me, making me feel like an errant child._

"_Seems I can't trust you either." I mutter. "You could have told me Dalton was watching me."_

"_Do you really want to fight about this, too?" he says, crossing his arms._

_I cock my head to one side. "I wasn't aware that we were fighting. I thought we were communicating." I mumble petulantly._

_He closes his eyes briefly as he struggles to contain his temper. "I have to work." he says quietly, and with that, he leaves the room._

_Can we ever have a normal conversation without it disintegrating into an argument? It's exhausting._

* * *

><p>We just don't know each other that well. I don't even know whether to make him tea or coffee while he's working in his study. <em>Should I disturb him at all?<em> I have no idea of his likes and dislikes. I begin to drift into sleep.

* * *

><p>I wake suddenly from a disturbing dream and am momentarily disoriented. I find myself anxiously checking the end of the bed, but there's no one there. Drifting from the great room, I hear the faint strains of a complex melody from the piano.<p>

_What time is it? _I look at the alarm clock. It's two in the morning. _Has Vincent come to sleep at all? _I disentangle my legs from my robe, and clamber out of bed.

In the great room, I stand in the shadows, listening. Vincent is lost to the music. He looks safe and secure in his bubble of light, and the tune he plays has a lilting melody, parts of which sound familiar, but so elaborate._ Damn, he's good._

The whole scene looks different somehow, and I realize that the piano lid is down, giving me an unhindered view. He glances up and our eyes lock, his brown orbs are softly luminous in the diffuse glow of the lamp. He continues to play, not faltering at all as I make my way over to him. His eyes follow me, drinking me in, burning brighter. As I reach him, he stops playing.

"Why did you stop? That was lovely." I murmur.

"Do you have any idea how desirable you look at the moment?" he says, his voice soft.

"Come to bed." I whisper and his eyes heat as he holds out his hand. When I take it, he tugs unexpectedly, causing me to fall into his lap. He wraps his arms around me and nuzzles my neck behind my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

"Why do we fight?" he whispers, as his teeth graze my earlobe.

_Oh Jesus! _My heart skips a beat, then starts pounding, coursing heat throughout my body. "Because we're getting to know each other, and you're stubborn and cantankerous and moody and difficult." I murmur breathlessly, shifting my head to give him better access to my throat. He runs his nose down my neck, and I feel his smile.

"I'm all those things, Miss Chandler. It's a wonder you put up with me." he says, nipping my earlobe and I moan. "Is it always like this?" he sighs.

"I have no idea." I whisper.

"Me neither." He yanks the sash of my robe so it falls open, and his hand skims down my body, and over my breast. My nipples harden beneath his gentle touch and strain against the satin fabric of my night gown. He continues down to my waist, and down to my hip.

"You feel so fine under this material, and I can see everything." he says and I gasp. He wraps his fingers around my throat gently and thrusts his other hand up into my hair at my nape. Tugging gently on my hair, he pulls my head back and kisses me, his tongue urgent, relentless, and needy.

I moan in response and caress his dear, dear face. His hand gently pulls my nightdress up, slowly, tantalizingly until he's fondling my naked behind, then running his thumbnail down the inside of my thigh.

Suddenly he rises, startling me, and he lifts bodily onto the piano. My feet rest on the keys, sounding discordant, disjointed notes, and his hands skim up my legs and part my knees.

He grabs my hands. "Lie back." he orders, holding my hands while I sink back on top of the piano. The lid is hard and uncompromising against my back. He lets go and pushes my legs open wider, my feet dancing over the lower and higher notes.

_Oh boy... _I know what he's going to do, and the anticipation... I groan loudly as he kisses, sucks and nips his way higher up my leg to my thigh. The soft satin of my night gown rises higher, skimming over my sensitized skin, as he pushes the fabric. I flex my feet and the chords sound again.

Closing my eyes, I surrender myself to him as his mouth reaches the apex of my thighs.

He kisses me... _there_... then gently blows before his tongue circles my clitoris. He pushes my legs wider, making me feel so open, so exposed. He holds me in place, his hands just above my knees as his tongue tortures me, giving no quarter, no respite... no reprieve. Tilting my hips up, meeting and matching his rhythm, I'm completely consumed.

"Oh, Vincent, please!" I moan.

"Oh no, babe. Not yet." he teases, but I feel myself quicken as does he, and he stops.

"No." I whimper.

"This is my revenge, Catherine." he growls softly. "Argue with me, and I'm going to take it out on your body somehow." He trails kisses along my belly, his hands traveling up my thighs, stroking, kneading, tantalizing. His tongue circles my navel as his thumbs—_oh his thumbs—_reach the summit of my thighs. "Ah!" I cry out as he pushes one inside of me. The other persecutes me, slowly, agonizingly, circling around and around.

My back arches off the piano as I writhe beneath his touch. It's almost unbearable. "Vincent!" I wail in pleasure, spiraling out of control with need.

He takes pity on me and stops. Lifting my feet off the keys, he pushes me. And suddenly, I'm sliding effortlessly up the top of the piano, gliding on satin, and he's following me up there, briefly kneeling between my legs, rolling on a condom. _Wait... When did he get naked? _He hovers over me and I'm panting, gazing up at him with raging need.

He stares down at me, and there's wonder in his eyes, wonder and love and passion, and it's breathtaking. "I want you so badly." he says and very exquisitely slow, he sinks into me.

"Oh, Vincent." I whisper as I wrap my arms around his neck. He crashes his lips against mine, and we begin devouring each others love.

* * *

><p>I'm sprawled breathless on top of him, wrung out, my limbs heavy and languid, as we lie together on top of his grand piano. He's much more comfortable to lie on rather than the piano. Careful not to touch his chest, I rest my cheek against him and keep perfectly still. He doesn't object, so I listen to his breathing as it slows like mine. Gently, he strokes my hair.<p>

"Do you drink tea or coffee in the evening?" I ask sleepily.

"Such a strange question." he says dreamily.

"I thought that I could bring you tea into your study, and then I realized I didn't know what you would like."

"Oh, I see. Water or wine in the evening, Cat. Though maybe I should try tea." His hand moves rhythmically up and down my back, stroking me tenderly. I sigh.

"We really know very little about each other." I murmur.

"I know." he says, and his voice is mournful.

I sit up, propped on my elbow to gaze at him. "What is it?" I ask. He shakes his head as if to rid himself of some unpleasant thought, and propping his head up onto his elbow, he gazes down at me.

Raising his other hand, he caresses my cheek, his eyes bright and earnest; full of passion, and it takes my breath away. "I am so in love with you, Catherine Chandler."

And all I know to do in this moment, after this heart warming confession, is kiss him with every bit of love I hold inside of my body for this man. I show him my love the best way I know how.

* * *

><p><em><strong>**I know, that wasn't much of anything, but the next chapter will be up by or before Saturday. So don't fret guys. I'm just trying to get everything back in place in RL. All I ask is for a little patience so that I can get back in the game ;) Love you all! Please review! XOXO!**<strong>_


	40. Chapter 40

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><strong>*WARNING: The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, graphic sexual content, and DOMSUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Extra: I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>*<strong>**Summary: ****(A/U) – -****Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his mul****t****inational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: And so the drama begins in VinCat-land... dun Dun DUNNNN! Lol! Anyways, some of you wanted to know how I make time for everything in my life. Well, my children are gone most of the day during school, so that's time for me to go to my classes and/or do my classwork. Once the kids get home, we tackle their homework, eat dinner, playtime for an hour, then bed. Once they are in bed, I can work on my fanfics/videos/etc. Sometimes I even write when I can't sleep at night lol. My mind does not know when to stop going so I just do what I can lol. Thanks guys so much for the awesome reviews!)**

_**Italics represent Catherine's thoughts.**_

_**Also, read the author note below after the chapter to get the translations... When you read the chapter, you will know why lol. **_

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 40-<strong>_

The alarm blasts on with the six a.m traffic news, and I'm rudely awakened from my disturbing dream of over-blonde and dark-haired women. I can't grasp what it's about, and I'm immediately distracted because Vincent Keller is wrapped around me like silk. His unruly-haired head lays on my chest, his hand is on my breast, and his legs are intertwined with mine. He's still asleep, and I am too warm at the moment for comfort.

But I ignore my discomfort, tentatively reaching up to run my tiny fingers through his hair, and he begins to stir. Raising his head, his bright golden brown eyes lock with my emerald greens, and he grins sleepily. _Dear Lord, this man is adorable..._

"Good morning, beautiful." he says.

"Good morning, gorgeous." I smile back at him.

He kisses me, disentangles himself from me, and leans up on his elbow, staring down at me. "Sleep well?" he asks.

"Yes, despite the interruption to my sleep last night." I bite my lip.

His grin broadens. "Hmm, you can interrupt me like _that _anytime." he says, kissing me again.

"How about you? Did you sleep well?"

"I always sleep well with you, Catherine."

"No more nightmares?" I ask.

"Nope." he smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes.

I frown and chance a question. "What are your nightmares about?"

His brow creases and his grin completely fades. "They're flashbacks of my early childhood, or so Dr. Marks says. Some vivid, some less so." His voice drops and a distant, harrowed look crosses his face. Absentmindedly, he begins to trace my collarbone with his index finger, distracting me.

"Do you wake up crying or screaming?" I try in vain to joke.

He looks at me puzzled. "No, Catherine. I've never cried. As far as I can remember." He frowns, as if reaching into the depths of his memories. _Oh no! That's too dark a place to go to at this hour, surely._

"Do you have any happy memories of your childhood?" I ask quickly, mainly to distract him.

He looks pensive for a moment, still running his finger along my skin. "I recall the crack whore baking. I remember the smell. A birthday cake, I think. For me. And then there's Tori's arrival with my mom and dad. My mom was worried about my reaction, but I adored baby Tori immediately. My first word was Tori. I remember my first piano lesson, too. Miss Kathie, my tutor, was awesome. She kept horses, too." He smiles wistfully.

"You said your mom saved you. How?"

His reverie is broken, and he gazes at me as if I don't understand the elementary math of two plus two. "She adopted me." he says simply. "I thought she was an angel when I first met her. She was dressed in white and was so gentle and calm whilst she examined me. I'll never forget that day. If she'd said no or if Michael had said no..." he shrugs and glances over his shoulder at the clock. "This is all a little deep for so early in the morning." he mutters.

"I have made a vow to get to know you better." I smile, raising a brow.

"Did you now, Miss Chandler? I thought you wanted to know if I preferred coffee or tea." He chuckles, causing me to laugh. "Anyways, I can think of one way you can get to know me." he says and his eyes become darker, more seductive. He pushes his hips suggestively against me.

"I think I know you quite well enough _that_ way." My voice is haughty and scolding, and it makes him smile more broadly.

"I don't think I'll ever get to know you well enough_ that_ way." he murmurs. "There are definite advantages to waking up beside you." His voice is soft and bone-meltingly seductive.

"Don't you have to get up?" I say huskily and low. _Oh, the things he does to me..._

"Only one place I want to be _up_ right now, Miss Chandler." And his eyes sparkle salaciously.

"Vincent!" I gasp, giggling. He shifts suddenly so that he's on top of me, pressing me into the bed. Grabbing my hands, he pulls them up above my head and begins to kiss my throat.

"Oh, Miss Chandler._ Je adore quand je suis à l'intérieur de vous_." he whispers against the skin between my ear and neck.

_FUCK. ME. SIDEWAYS! I can't believe he just spoke to me in French! _

_"Oui!_" I whisper, digging my nails into the tops of his hands as my body shivers into a pool of lust beneath him. He trails one of his hands down my body and starts to slowly hitch up my satin nightdress. He places open-mouthed kisses along my jaw to my lips, where he stills, gazing into my eyes. "I want to make love to you." and with that, we become consumed in the love that radiates off our bodies.

* * *

><p>Mrs. Jones sets down my breakfast of pancakes and bacon, and for Vincent an omelet and bacon. We sit side by side at the breakfast bar in a comfortable silence.<p>

"When am I going to meet your trainer Claude, and put him through his paces?" I ask. Vincent glances down at me, grinning at my comment.

"Depends if you want to go to New York this weekend or not. Unless, you'd like to see him early one morning this week. I'll ask Andrea to check on his schedule and come back to you."

"Andrea?"

"My PA." he raises a brow, sipping on his orange juice.

_Oh yeah... _"One of your many blondes." I tease.

"She's not _mine. _She works _for _me. You on the other hand, are definitely mine."

"I work for you." I mutter sourly.

He chuckles as if he's forgotten. "So you do, Miss Chandler." His beaming smile is infectious.

"Maybe Claude can teach me to kickbox." I warn.

"Oh yeah? Fancy your chances against me?" Vincent raises an eyebrow, amused. "Bring. It. On, Catherine."

He's so damned happy compared to yesterday's fiasco after Gabriella left. It's totally disarming. Maybe it's all of the sex we're having... _perhaps that's what's making him so buoyant._ I glance behind me at the piano, savoring the memory of making love on top of it last night. "You put the lid of the piano back up." I murmur.

"I closed it last night as way of not disturbing you. Guess it didn't work, but I must admit, I'm glad that it didn't." Vincent's lips twitch into a lascivious smile as he takes a bite of omelet. I go crimson and smirk back at him.

_Hmm, fun times on the piano..._

Gail leans over and places a paper bag containing my lunch in front of me, making me flush guiltily. "For later, Catherine. Chicken okay?"

"Oh, yeah. Thanks, Mrs. Jones." I give her a shy smile, which she reciprocates warmly before leaving the great room. I suspect it's to give us some privacy. "Can I ask you something?" I ask, turning towards Vincent.

He looks amused. "Of course."

"And you won't be angry?"

"Is it about Gabriella?"

"No." I sigh.

"Then I won't be angry." he breathes.

_Well, come to think of it... _"But I now have a supplementary question, about her."

He rolls his eyes. "What?" he says, and now he's exasperated.

"Why do you get so mad when I ask about her?" I ask, softly.

"Honestly?" he takes a big drink of his juice.

I scowl at him. "I thought you were _always_ honest with me."

"I endeavor to be." he corrects quickly.

I narrow my eyes at him. "That sounds like a very evasive answer."

"I'm always honest with you, Cat. I don't want to play games. Well, not those sorts of games." he qualifies, as his eyes heat up.

"What sort of games _do_ you want to play, Vincent?" I ask cautiously.

He inclines his head to one side and smirks at me. "Miss Chandler, you are so easily distracted."

I giggle. He's so right. "Mr. Keller, you are distracting on so many levels." I gaze at his dancing brown orbs, alight with humor.

"My favorite sound in the whole world is your giggle, Catherine. Now, what was your original question?" he asks smoothly, and I think he's laughing at me. I try to twist my mouth to show my displeasure, but I like playful Vincent—_he's fun!_

"Ah, yes. You only saw your subs on the weekends?" I ask.

"Yeah."

I grin at him. "So, no sex during the week?"

He laughs. "Oh, so that's where we're going with this. Why do you think I work out every weekday?" Now he really is laughing at me, but I don't care. I want to hug myself with glee. _Another first—well, several firsts..._"You look very pleased with yourself, Miss Chandler." he adds.

"That's because I am, Mr. Keller." I smile.

"You should be." He grins. "Now eat your breakfast."

* * *

><p>We're in the back of the Audi. Sam is driving with the intention of dropping me off at work, then Vincent. Dalton is riding shotgun.<p>

"Didn't you say your roommate's brother was arriving today?" Vincent asks, almost casually, his voice and expression giving nothing away.

"Shit! Tim!" I gasp. "I completely forgot about that. Thank you for reminding me, Vincent. I'll have to go back to the apartment to let him in."

His face falls. "What time?"

"I'm not sure what time he's arriving." I murmur.

"I don't want you going anywhere on your own." he says sharply.

"I know." I mutter, rolling my eyes so that he can't see. "Will Dalton be spying—um...patrolling today?" I glance slyly in Dalton's direction to see the backs of his ears turn beet red.

"Yes." Vincent snaps, his eyes glacial.

"If I was driving the Saab it would make things easier." I mutter petulantly.

"Dalton will have a car, and he can drive you to your apartment, depending on what time."

"Okay. I think Tim will probably contact me during the day. I'll let you know what the plans are then."

He gazes at me, saying nothing. _Oh, what's he thinking?_

"Okay." he acquiesces. "Nowhere on your own. Do you understand?" He waves a long finger at me.

"Yes, Daddy dearest!" I feign sarcasm.

A ghost of a smile appears on his face. "And maybe you should just use your BlackBerry. I'll email you on it. That should prevent my IT guy having a thoroughly interesting morning, alright?" His voice is sardonic.

"Yes, Vincent." I can't resist. I roll my eyes at him, and he smirks at me.

"Why, Miss Chandler, I do believe you're making my palm twitch." he grins deviously.

"Ah, Mr. Keller, your perpetually twitching palm. What are we to do with that?"

He laughs, then is distracted by his BlackBerry, which must be on vibrate because it doesn't ring. He frowns when he sees the caller ID. "What is it?" he snaps into the phone, then listens intently. I begin studying his lovely features. Straight nose, his hair hanging scruffily over his forehead. I'm distracted from my surreptitious ogling by his expression, which turns from incredulity to amusement. I pay attention.

"You're kidding... For a scene... When did he tell you this?" Vincent chuckles, almost reluctantly. "No, don't worry. You don't have to apologize. I'm glad there's a logical explanation. It did seem a ridiculously low amount of money... I have no doubt you've something evil and creative planned for your revenge. Poor Issac." He smiles. _Who's Issac? _"Good... Bye." He snaps the phone shut and glances at me. His eyes are suddenly wary, but oddly, he looks relieved, to.

"Who was that?" I ask.

"You really want to know?" he asks quietly.

And in that moment, I know who it is already. Gabriella. "Who's Issac?" I ask.

"Her current sub." he whispers.

I shake my head and turn my gaze out the window at the gray Seattle day, feeling forlorn. _Why can't she leave him alone?_

"Hey." He reaches for my hand and kisses each of my knuckles in turn, and suddenly he's sucking my pinky—_hard—_then biting it softly.

_Dammit! _He has a hotline to my groin. I gasp and glance nervously at Sam and Dalton, then at Vincent, his eyes dark.

He gives me a slow carnal smile. "Don't sweat it, Catherine." he murmurs. "She's in the past." And he plants a kiss in the center of my palm, sending tingles everywhere, and my momentary pique is forgotten.

* * *

><p>"Morning, Cat." Gabe mutters as I make my way to my desk. "Nice dress."<p>

I flush. The dress is is part of my new wardrobe, courtesy of my incredibly rich boyfriend. It's a sleeveless pale blue linen shift dress, quite fitted, and I'm wearing cream colored high-heeled sandals. Vincent likes heels, I think.

I smile secretly at the thought but quickly recover my bland professional smile for my boss. "Good morning, Gabriel."

I set about ordering a messenger to take his brochure to the printers. He pops his head around his office door. "Could I have a coffee, please, Catherine?"

"Sure." I wander into the kitchen and bump into Claire from reception, who is also fixing coffee.

"Hey, Cat." she says cheerfully.

"Hi, Claire."

We chat briefly about her extended-family gathering over the weekend, which she enjoyed immensely, and I tell her about sailing with Vincent.

"Your boyfriend is so dreamy, Cat." she says, her eyes glazing over.

I'm tempted to roll my eyes at her. "Ah, he's not so bad." I smile and we both start laughing.

"You took your time!" Gabe snaps when I bring in his coffee.

_Oops! _"I'm sorry." I flush then frown. _I took the usual amount of time. What's his problem?_ Perhaps he's nervous about something.

He shakes his head. "Sorry, Catherine. I didn't mean to snap at you, honey."

_Honey?_

"There's something going on at senior management level, and I don't know what it is. Keep your ear to the ground, okay? If you hear anything, I know how you girls like to talk." He grins at me, and I feel slightly sick. He has no idea how we girls talk. Besides, I know what's happening. "You'll let me know, right?" he adds.

"Sure." I mutter. "I've sent the brochure to the printers. It'll be back by two o'clock."

"Great. Here." He hands me a pile of manuscripts. "All of these need synopses of the first chapter, then filing."

"I'll get on it." I force a smile.

I'm relieved to get back to my desk. _What will he do when he finds out that my boyfriend is the senior management? _My blood runs cold. Something tells me Gabe will be annoyed. I glance at my BlackBerry and smile. There's an email from Vincent.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Sunrise

**Date:** June 14, 2011 09:23

**To: **Catherine Chandler

I love waking up to you in the morning.

Vincent Keller

Completely & Utterly Smitten CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p>I think my face splits in two with my grin, and my inner goddess back-flips over her chaise lounge.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Sunset

**Date: **June 14, 2011 09:35

**To:** Vincent Keller

Dear Completely & Utterly Smitten CEO,

I love waking up to you, too. But I really love being in bed with you—and in elevators, and on pianos, and billiard tables, and boats, and desks, and showers, and in bathtubs, and strange wooden crosses with shackles, and four-poster beds with red satin sheets, and boathouses, and childhood bedrooms.

Yours,

Sex Mad & Insatiable xx

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Wet Hardware

**Date:** June 14, 2011 09:37

**To: **Catherine Chandler

Dear Sex Mad & Insatiable,

I've just spat coffee all over my keyboard. I don't think that's ever happened to me before.

I do admire a woman who concentrates on geography.

Am I to infer that you just want me for my body?

Vincent Keller

Completely & Utterly Shocked CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Giggling—& Wet Too

**Date:** June 14, 2011 09:42

**To:** Vincent Keller

Dear Completely & Utterly Shocked CEO,

Always ;)

I have work to do. Stop bothering me.

SM&I xx

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Do I Have To?

**Date:** June 14, 2011 09:50

**To: **Catherine Chandler

Dear SM&I,

As ever, your wish is my command.

Love that you're giggling and wet.

Laters, baby.

X

Vincent Keller

Completely & Utterly Smitten, Shocked and Spellbound CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

><p>I giggle as I put my BlackBerry down to continue my work.<p>

* * *

><p>At lunchtime, Gabe asks me to go down to the deli for his lunch. I call Vincent as soon as I leave Gabe's office.<p>

"Catherine." He answers immediately, his voice warm and caressing. _How is it this man can make me melt over the phone?_

"Vincent. Gabe has asked me to get his lunch."

"Lazy bastard." Vincent gripes.

I ignore him, rolling my eyes at his comment as I continue. "So, I'm going to get it. It might be handy if you give me Dalton's number, so I don't have to bother you."

"It's no bother, babe."

"Are you on your own?" I ask.

"No. Actually, there are six people staring at me at the moment, wondering who the hell I'm talking to." he chuckles.

_Whoops! _"Really?" I gasp, panicked.

"Yes. Really." he pauses. "My girlfriend." he announces away from the phone.

"They probably all thought you were gay, you know." I giggle.

He laughs. "Yeah, probably." I hear his grin.

"Er—I'd better go then." I'm sure he can tell how embarrassed I am at the moment.

"I'll let Dalton know." He laughs again. "Have you heard from your friend?" he adds.

"Not yet. You'll be the first to know, Mr. Keller." I sigh.

"Good. Laters, baby."

"Bye, Vincent." I grin every time he says that to me. It's so un-Fifty of him.

* * *

><p>The brochures arrive back at the office, and I have to say, they look great. I take one into Gabe's office. His eyes light up, and I don't know if it's me or the brochure. I choose to believe it's the latter.<p>

"These look great, Cat." Idly, he flicks through it. "Yeah, great job. Are you seeing your boyfriend this evening?" His lip curls as he says boyfriend.

"Yes, actually, we live together." It's sort of the truth. _Well, we do at the moment._ And I've officially agreed to move in, so it's not much of a white lie. I hope that it's enough to throw him off the scent.

"Would he object to you coming out for a quick drink tonight? To celebrate all your hard work?"

"Actually, I have a friend coming in from out of town tonight, and we're all going out for dinner." _And I'll be busy every night, Gabe._

"I see." He sighs, exasperated. "Maybe when I'm back from New York, huh?" He raises his eyebrows in expectation, and his gaze darkens suggestively.

"Would you like some coffee or tea?" I ask.

"Coffee, please." His voice is low and husky as if he's asking for something else. _Fuck! He's not going to back off! _I can see that now. _Oh... what to do?_

I breathe a long sigh of relief when I'm out of his office. He makes me tense. Vincent's right about him, and part of me is pissed that Vincent is right about him.

I sit down at my desk and my BlackBerry rings. _Hmm... _A number I don't recognize.

"Catherine Chandler speaking."

"Hey, Chandler!" Tim's drawl catches me momentarily off guard.

"Tim! How are you?" I almost squeal with delight.

"Glad to be back. I'm seriously fed up with sunshine and rum punches, and my baby sister being hopelessly in love with the big guy. It's been hell, Cat."

"Yeah! Sea, sand, sun, and rum punches sounds like Dante's Inferno." I giggle. "Where are you?"

"I'm at Sea-Tac, waiting for my bag. What are you doing?" he asks.

"I'm at work. Yes, I'm gainfully employed now." I respond to his gasp. "Do you want to come here and collect the keys? I can meet you later at the apartment."

"Sounds great. I'll see you in about forty-five minutes, and hour at the most. What's the address?" he asks.

I give him SIP's adress. "See you soon, Tim."

"Laters!" he says and hangs up. _What the hell? Not Tim, too! _And it dawns on me that he's just spent a week with JT. I quickly type an email to Vincent.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Visitors from Sunny Climes.

**Date:** June 14, 2011 14:55

**To:** Vincent Keller

Dearest Completely & Utterly SS&S,

Tim is back, and he's coming here to collect the keys to the apartment. I'd really like to make sure he's settled in okay.

Why don't you pick me up after work? We can go to the apartment then we can ALL go out for dinner maybe?

My treat?

Yours,

Cat x

Still SM&I

Catherine Chandler

Assistant to Gabriel Lowan, Commissioning Editor, SIP

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Dinner Out

**Date: **June 14, 2011 15:05

**To:** Catherine Chandler

I approve your plan... except the part about you paying!

My treat.

I'll pick you up at 6:00.

x

PS: Why aren't you using your BlackBerry!

Vincent Keller

Completely & Utterly Annoyed CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Bossiness

**Date: **June 14, 2011 15:11

**To:** Vincent Keller

Oh, don't be so crusty and cross.

It's all in code.

I'll see you at 6:00.

Cat x

Catherine Chandler

Assistant to Gabriel Lowan, Commissioning Editor, SIP

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> Vincent Keller

**Subject:** Maddening Woman

**Date: **June 14, 2011 15:18

**To:** Catherine Chandler

Oh, I'll give you crusty and cross... and I'm looking forward to it.

Vincent Keller

Completely & Utterly More Annoyed, but smiling for some unknown reason like an idiot, CEO, Keller Enterprises Holdings Inc.

* * *

><p><strong>F<strong>**rom:** Catherine Chandler

**Subject:** Promises, Promises

**Date:** June 14, 2011 15:23

**To:** Vincent Keller

Bring it on, Mr. Keller. I look forward to it, too. ;D

Cat x

Catherine Chandler

Assistant to Gabriel Lowan, Commissioning Editor, SIP

* * *

><p>He doesn't reply, but then again, I don't expect him to. I imagine him moaning about mixed signals, and the thought makes me smile. I daydream briefly about what he might do to me but find myself shifting about in my chair. My subconscious gazes at me disapprovingly over her half-moon specs—<em>get on with your work!<em>

Moments later, my phone buzzes. It's Claire at reception. "There's a real cute guy in reception to see you. We must go out for drinks sometime, Cat. You sure know some hunky guys." she hisses conspiratorially through the phone.

_Tim! _

Grabbing my keys from my purse, I rush out to the foyer.

_Holy shit! He looks hot! _

As soon as he sees me, his mouth drops open, and he's on his feet coming toward me. "Wow, Catherine." He frowns at me as he bends to give me a hug.

"You look well, Tim." I say as I smile.

"You look... wow—different. Worldly, more sophisticated. What's happened? You changed your hair? Clothes? I don't know, Chandler, but you look hot!"

I blush furiously. "Oh, Tim. I'm just in my work clothes." I scold as Claire looks on with an arched eyebrow and wry smile. "How was Barbados?" I add.

"Fun." he says.

"When's Tess coming back?"

"She and JT are flying back Friday. They're pretty damn serious about each other." Tim rolls his eye.

"I've missed her." I whisper, looking down and crossing my arms.

"Yeah? How have you been doing with Mr. Mogul?"

_What the... _I snap my head up to look at him, raising a brow. "Mr. Mogul?" I snicker. "Well, it's been interesting. He's taking us out for dinner this evening."

"Cool." Tim shrugs. He seems genuinely pleased. _Phew!_

_The key, Chandler!_ "Oh, here." I hand him the keys. "You have the address?" I add.

"Yeah. Laters." He leans over and kisses my cheek.

"Laters, Tim? Really? JT's expression?" I grumble.

He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "Yeah, well, it kind of grows on you."

"I suppose it does. Laters!" I smile at him as he collects his large shoulder bag from beside the green couch and exits the building.

When I turn around, Gabe is watching me from the far side of the foyer, his expression unreadable. I smile brightly at him and head back to my desk, feeling his eyes on me the whole time. This is beginning to get on my damned nerves. _What the hell do I do?_ I have no idea. I'll have to wait until Tess is back. She's bound to come up with a plan. The thought dispels my bleak mood, and I pick up the next manuscript.

* * *

><p>At five til six, my phone buzzes. It's Vincent...<p>

"Crusty and Cross here." he says and I can't help but giggle. He's still in his playful mood, and I must admit, I love him even more like this. My inner goddess is clapping her hands with glee like a small child.

"Well, this is Sex Mad and Insatiable. I take it you're outside?" I ask dryly.

"I am indeed, Miss Chandler. Looking forward to seeing you." His voice is warm and seductive, and my heart flutters wildly.

"Ditto, Mr. Keller. I'll be right out." I hang up, smiling like an idiot. I switch off my computer and gather up my purse and cream cardigan. "I'm off now, Gabe." I call through.

"Okay, Catherine. Thanks for today, honey! Have a great evening."

_Uhm... _"You, too."

_Why can't he be like this all of the time? _I swear, I just don't understand him.

* * *

><p>The Audi is parked at the curb, and Vincent climbs out as I approach. He's taken off his jacket, and he's wearing his gray pants—<em>the one's that hang off his hips in that sexy, delicious way. <em>

_How can this Greek God be meant for me? _I find myself grinning like a loon in answer to his own idiotic grin.

He's spent the whole day acting like a boyfriend in love—_in love with me. _This adorable, complex, yet flawed man is in love with me, and I with him. Joy bursts unexpectedly inside of me, and I savor the moment as I feel briefly that I could conquer the world.

"Miss Chandler, you look as captivating as you did this morning." Vincent pulls me into his arms and kisses me soundly.

"As do you, Mr. Keller." I smile.

"Let's go get your friend." He smiles down at me and opens the car door.

As Sam heads to the apartment, Vincent fills me in on his day. It was much better than yesterday, or so it seems. I gaze at him adoringly as he attempts to explain some breakthrough the environmental science department at WSU in Vancouver has made. His words mean very little to me, bu I'm captivated by his passion and interest with this subject. Maybe this is what it'll be like, good days and bad days, and if the good days like this, I won't have much to complain about.

He hands me a sheet of paper. "Theses are the times that Claude is free this week." he says.

_Oh! The trainer!_

* * *

><p>As we pull up to my apartment building, he fishes his BlackBerry from his pocket. "Keller." he answers. "Rose, what is it?" He listens intently, and I can tell it's an involved conversation.<p>

"I'll go and get Tim. I'll be two minutes." I mouth at Vincent and hold up two fingers.

He nods, obviously distracted by the call. Sam opens my door, smiling at me warmly. I grin at him, even Sam's feeling it.

I press the entry phone and shout happily into it. "Hey, Tim. It's me. Let me in!"

The door buzzes, and I head upstairs to the apartment. It occurs to me that I've not been here since Saturday morning. That seems so long ago. Tim has kindly left the front door open.

I step into the apartment, and I don't know why, but I freeze instinctively as soon as I step inside. I take a moment to realize it's because the pale, wan figure standing by the kitchen island, holding a small revolver, is Alex, and she's gazing impassively at me.

_Ho-ly FUCK!_

She's here, gazing at me with an unnerving blank expression, holding a gun. My subconscious shrinks into a dead faint, and I don't think even smelling salts will bring her back. I blink repeatedly at Alex as my mind goes into overdrive. _How did she get in? Where's Tim? Holy shit! Shit! Shit! SHIT! WHERE IS TIM?!_

A creeping cold fear grips my heart, and my scalp prickles as each and every follicle on my head tightens with terror. _What if she's harmed him? _I start breathing rapidly as adrenaline and bone-numbing dread course through my body. _Keep calm—keep calm—_I repeat this mantra over and over in my head.

She tilts her head to one side, regarding me as if I'm an exhibit in a freak show. _Christ! I'm not the freak here!_

It feels like an eon has passed while I process all of this, though in reality, it's only a split second. Alex's expression remains blank, and her appearance is as scruffy and ill-kempt as ever. She's still wearing that grubby trench coat, and she looks desperately in need of a wash. He hair is greasy and lank, plastered against her head, and her eye are the brightest of blue I've ever seen before in my life. Confusion is written all over her face.

Despite the fact that my mouth has no moisture in it whatsoever, I attempt to speak. "Hi. Alex, isn't it?" I rasp. She smiles, but it's a disturbing curl of her lip rather than a true smile.

"So she speaks." she whispers, and her voice is soft and hoarse at the same time, and eerie sound.

"Yes, I speak." I say gently as if talking to a child. "Are you here alone?" _Where is Tim? _My heart pounds at the thought that he might have come to some harm.

Her face falls, so much that I think she's about to burst into tears. She looks so forlorn. "Alone." she whispers. "Alone." And the depth of sadness in that one word is heart wrenching. _What does she mean? I'm alone? She's alone? She's alone because she's harmed Tim? Oh...NO! _I have to fight the choking fear clawing at my throat as tears threaten my eyes.

"What are you doing here? Can I help you with something?" My words are a calm, gentle interrogation despite the suffocating fear in my throat. Her brow furrows as if she's completely befuddled by my questions. But she makes no violent move against me. Her hand is still relaxed around her gun.

I take a different tack, trying to ignore my tightening scalp. "Would you like some tea?" _Why am I asking a woman, holding a damn gun in her hand, pointing it at my head, if she wants some fucking tea?! _It's Thomas' answer to any emotional situation, resurfacing inappropiately. _Jeez, he'd have kicked in, and he's have disarmed her by now. _

She shakes her head and tilts it from side to side as if stretching her neck. I take a deep precious lungful of air, trying to calm my panicked breathing, and move toward the kitchen island. She frowns as if she can't quite understand what I'm doing and shifts a little so she is still facing me with the gun.

I reach the kettle and with a shaking hand, fill it from the faucet. As I move, my breathing eases. _Yes, if she wanted me dead, surely she would have shot me by now. _She watches me with an absent, bemused curiosity.

As I switch on the kettle, I'm plagued by the thought of Tim. _Is he hurt? Tied up? _"Is there anyone else in the apartment?" I ask tentatively.

She inclines her head the other way, and with her right hand—the hand not holding the revolver—she grabs a strand of her long greasy hair and starts twirling and fiddling with it, pulling and twisting. It's obviously a nervous habit, and while I'm distracted by this, I'm struck once again by how she resembles me. I hold my breath, waiting for her answer, the anxiety building to an almost unbearable pitch.

"Alone. All alone." she murmurs. I find this comforting. _Maybe Tim isn't here. _The relief is empowering.

"Are you sure you don't want tea or coffee?" I ask, softly.

"No. I'm not thirsty." she answers softly, and she takes a cautious step toward me. MY feeling of empowerment evaporates. _Fuck! _I start panting with fear again, feeling it surge thick and rough through my veins. In spite of this and feeling beyond brave, I turn and fetch a couple of cups from the cupboard.

"What do you have that I don't?" she asks, her voice assuming the singsong intonation of a child.

"What do you mean, Alex?" I ask as gently as I can.

"Master—Mr. Keller—he let's you call him by his given name." she says shakily, and I can feel the hurt of her words. _But the fact of the matter is..._

"I'm not his submissive, Alex. Er—Master understands that I am unable, inadequate to fulfill that role."

She tilts her head to the other side. It's wholly unnerving and unnatural as a gesture. "In-ad-e-quate." She tests the word, sounding it out, seeing hos it feels on her tongue. "But Master is happy. I've seen him. He laughs and smiles. These reactions are very rare for him."

_Oh..._

"You look like me." Alex adds, changing tack and surprising the hell out of me. He eyes seem to focus on me properly for the first time. "Master likes obedient ones who look like you and me. The others, all of them the same... all the same... and yet you sleep in his bed. I saw you!" She's getting angry now. _Oh shit! __And she WAS in the room that night..._

"You saw me in his bed?" I whisper.

"I never slept in Master's bed." she murmurs. She's like a fallen ethereal wraith. Half a person. She looks so slight, and in spite of the fact that she's holding a gun, I suddenly feel overwhelmed with sympathy for her. Her hands flex around the weapon, and my eyes widen, threatening to pop from my head. "Why does Master like us like this? It makes me think of something... Master is dark... Master is a dark man, but I love him." she adds.

_No, no, no! He's not! He's not dark! He's a good man, and he's not in the dark! _"Alex, do you want to give me the gun?" I ask softly. Her hand grips it tightly, and she hugs it to her chest.

"This is mine. It's all I have left." She gently caresses the gun. "So that I can join my love... forever."

_Who? Vincent?! _I gasp as if I've been kicked in the stomach as the tears silently fall from my eyes.

Suddenly, the door bursts open, and Vincent is standing in the doorway, Sam behind him.

_NOOOOOOOOO!_

_**To Be Continued...**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>**It is currently 2:17 in the morning as I write this, but it will probably be around 9 or 10 in the morning before I actually post it lol.<strong>_

**_Translations: "Je adore quand je suis à l'intérieur de vous." is "I love it when I'm inside you." (I think anyways lol.) And "Oui!" is "Yes!" ;)_**

_**Decided that I would break this down into two parts because it was so long. I hope this lovely cliffy keeps you all on the edge for a little while. I'll try to post again on Tuesday when I update my other story. I think that's the best I can do until things in RL slow down. The only reason I am writing this chapter is because I can't sleep at all lol. Thanks again for the awesome reviews. They are always welcome! XOXO!****_


	41. Chapter 41

***Disclaimer: E.L. James is the wonderful creator of this amazing story-line. Although, any and all alterations belong to me. I do NOT own the characters of the book/tv series, only borrowing them!**

* * *

><p><strong>*WARNING: The material you are about to read is Rated M for Mature Readers ONLY for language, graphic sexual content, and DOMSUB Themes, ETC.**

* * *

><p><strong>*Extra: I am only human and am subject to make mistakes. Please look over any errors I may leave behind, and I will try to fix them as I go.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>*<strong>**Summary: ****(A/U) – -****Based from New York Times #1 Bestseller Novels, 'Fifty Shades of Grey'- When Literature student, Catherine Chandler, goes to interview the young entrepreneur, Vincent Keller, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and very intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Cat is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Cat's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Keller admits he wants her, too–but on his own terms. Shocked, yet thrilled by Keller's singular erotic tastes, Cat hesitates. For all the trappings of success–his mul****t****inational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family–Keller is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Cat discovers Vincent Keller's secrets and explores her own dark desires.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: DAYUM! People freaking out lol. Okay, here we go... let's see what happens to VinCat ;) Enjoy!)**

_Italics represent Catherine's thoughts._

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter 41-<strong>_

Glancing at me briefly, Vincent's eye sweep over me from head to toe, and I notice the small spark of relief in his look. But his relief is fleeting as his gaze darts to Alex and stills, focusing on her, not wavering in the slightest. He glares at her with an intensity I've never seen before, his eyes wild, wide, angry, and scared.

_Oh no... OH NO!_

Alex's eyes widen and for a moment, it seems her reasoning has returned. She blinks rapidly while her hand tightens once more around the gun. My breath catches in my throat, and my heart starts thumping so loud that I can hear the blood pounding in my ears. _No, no, no! Please don't take him away from me! NO!_

My world teeters precariously in the hands of this poor, fucked-up woman. _Will she shoot? Both of us? Vincent? _The thought is crippling. But after an eternity, as time hangs suspended around us, her head dips slightly and she gazes up at him through her long lashes, her expression contrite.

Vincent holds up his hand, signaling Sam to stay where he is. Sam's blanched face betrays his fury. I've never seen him like this, but he stands stack-still as Vincent and Alex stare at each other.

I realize that I'm holding my breath. _What will she do? What will he do? _But they just keep staring at each other. Vincent's expression is raw, full of some unnamed emotion. It could be pity, fear, affection..._ or is it love? _

_No! Please, God, no! It can't be love... he loves me... Or maybe he just thought that he does._

His eyes bore into her, and agonizingly slowly, the atmosphere in the apartment changes. The tension is building so that I can sense their connection, the charge between them.

_NO! _Suddenly I feel like I'm the interloper, intruding on them as they stand gazing at each other. I'm an outsider—a voyeur, spying on a forbidden, intimate scene behind closed curtains. Vincent's intense gaze burns brighter, and his bearing changes subtly. He looks taller, more angular somehow, colder, and more distant. I recognize this stance. I've seen him like this before.

My scalp prickles. This is Dominant Vincent. Whether he was born to or made for this role, I just don't know, but with a sinking heart and sickened stomach, I watch as Alex responds. He lips are parting, her breathing intensified, and her cheeks begin to flush. _No! _It's such an unwelcome glimpse into his past, agonizing to witness.

Finally, he mouths a word to her that I can't quite make out. The effect on Alex is immediate. She drops to the floor onto her knees, her head bowed so that she is looking at the floor, and the gun falls and skitters uselessly across the wooden floor. _Ho-ly shit!_

Vincent walks calmly over to where the gun has fallen and he bends gracefully to pick it up, then he turns and hands it to Sam. He faces the broken woman, still kneeling at his feet next to the kitchen island and he gazes at her once more.

Without taking his eyes off Alex, he begins to speak to me. "Catherine, go with Sam." he commands low, and softly. Sam crosses the threshold and stares at me.

I am so shocked at this point that I find it hard to find words. "Tim." is all I can manage in a whisper.

"Downstairs." He responds matter-of-factly, his eyes still on Alex. Relief floods hard and fast through my blood, and for a moment I think I'm going to faint. _Tim is okay. _"Catherine." he warns again.

I blink at him in disbelief, and I'm suddenly unable to move. I don't want to leave him... and I definitely don't want to leave him alone with _her._ He moves to stand beside Alex as she continues to kneel by his feet. He's hovering over her, protectively. She's so still, it's unnatural. I can't take my eyes off the two of them—_together..._

"For the love of God, Catherine, will you do as you're told for once in your life and go?!" Vincent says as his eyes lock with mine, his voice a blistering cold shard of ice. The anger beneath the quiet, deliberate delivery of his words is palpable.

_He's angry with me? Surely not! _I feel like he's slapped me hard in the face. _Why in the hell does he want to stay with her?!_

"I'm not going anywhere, Vincent. This is my apartment." I hiss, crossing my arms.

"Now, Catherine." he spits with the same venom.

I shake my head. _I will not back down from this! _"No!" I murmur, my gaze still locked with his.

"Sam. Take Miss Chandler downstairs. NOW!" Vincent growls. Sam nods at him as I continue to stare at Vincent.

"Why?" I whisper, hurt. Tears stain my eyes. _How can he do this to me?_

"Go, Catherine. Go back to Escala." His eyes blazing frostily at me. "I need to be alone with Alex." He says that last sentence urgently.

I think he's trying to convey some kind of message, but I'm so thrown by all that's happened that I'm not sure. I glance down at Alex and notice a very small smile cross her lips, but otherwise she remains truly impassive. A complete submissive. _Fuck! _My heart chills.

_This is what he needs... This is what he likes... _I want to scream, but I have completely went mute, frozen to the very core from this mightmare.

"Miss Chandler. Cat." Sam holds his hand out to me, imploring me to go with him. I'm too damn immobilized by the horrific spectacle before me. It confirms my worst fears and plays on all my insecurities; _Vincent and Alex together... the Dom and his Sub._

"Sam!" Vincent urges, and in that moment, I feel my body lift completely off the ground and into the arms of Sam. The last thing that I see as Sam walks me towards the door is Vincent gently stroking Alex's head as he murmurs something softly to her.

_NO, DAMMIT NO!_

* * *

><p>As Sam carries me down the stairs, I lie limply in his arms trying to grasp what's just happened in the past ten minutes—<em>or was it longer? Shorter? <em>The concept of time has deserted me.

_Vincent and Alex... Alex and Vincent... Together? What is he doing with her now?_

"Jesus, Catherine!" I hear Tim's voice but my mind is still inside of the apartment.

Sam puts me down onto my feet and I look up to see a perfectly fine Tim Vargas standing in front of me. "Oh, Tim. Thank God!" I run into his arms and hug him, holding him close. I feel even more relieved to actually see him unharmed.

"What the hell is going on, Cat? And who is this guy?" Tim says into my hair as he holds me close.

"Oh, sorry, Tim. This is Sam. He works with Vincent. Sam, this is Tim, my roommate's brother." I murmur.

Tim pulls away from me and they nod at each other.

"Cat, what's going on upstairs? I was fishing for the apartment keys when these guys jumped out of nowhere and grabbed them. One of them was Vincent..." Tim's voice trails off.

"You were late... Thank God!"

"Yeah. I met a friend from Pullman. We had a quick drink. Jesus, what's going on upstairs?" he says, confused.

"There's a uhm... a girl, an ex of Vincent's... in our apartment. She's gone postal, and Vincent is..." My voice cracks as tears threaten my eyes.

"Hey." Tim whispers and pulls me close to him once more. "Has anyone called the cops?"

"No, it's not like that." I sob into his chest and now I've started, and can't stop crying. The tension of this latest episode releases through my tears. Tim tightens his arms around me, but I sense his bemusement.

"Hey, Catherine, let's go get a drink. By the way you look right now, you could really use one." He pats my back awkwardly. Abruptly, I feel awkward, too, and embarrassed, and in all honesty, I want to be alone right now. But I nod, accepting his offer. I want to be away from here, away from whatever is going on in the apartment.

I turn to Sam. "Was the apartment checked?" I ask him tearfully, wiping my nose with the back of my hand.

"This afternoon." Sam shrugs apologetically as he hands me a handkerchief. He looks devastated. "I'm really sorry, Catherine." he murmurs. I frown. _Jeez, he looks so guilty. _I honestly don't want to make him feel worse. "She does seem to have an uncanny ability to evade us." he adds, scowling again.

"Tim and I are going for a quick drink then we'll head back to Escala." I dry my eyes and sniffle softly.

Sam shuffles from foot to foot uncomfortably. "Mr. Keller wanted you to go back to the apartment." he says quietly.

I roll my eyes. "Well, we all know where Alex is now." I can't keep the bitterness out of my voice. "So, no need for all the security. Tell Vincent we'll see him later." I add. Sam opens his mouth to speak, but wisely closes it back again. I turn towards Tim and sigh. "Do you want to leave your bag with Sam?" I ask.

"No, I'll keep it with me, thanks anyway." Tim says, nodding at Sam, then he ushers me out of the front door. _Shit! _I left my purse in the back of the Audi. I have absolutely nothing with me.

"My purse—"

"Don't worry about it." Tim interrupts me, shrugging with a smile. "It's cool, Cat. This one's on me."

* * *

><p>We choose a bar across the street, settling onto wooden bar stools by the window. I want to see what's going on at the apartment, who's going in and, more importantly, who's coming out.<p>

Tim hands me a bottle of beer. "Trouble with an ex, eh?" he says gently.

"It's a bit more complicated than that." I mutter, abruptly guarded. I can't talk about this—_I've signed an NDA. _And for the first time, I really resent that fact and that Vincent's said nothing about rescinding it.

"I've got time." Tim says kindly, taking a huge swig of his beer, his eyes glued to me.

"She's an ex, from years back. She left her husband for some guy, then a couple of weeks or so ago, he was killed in a car crash, and now she's come after Vincent." I shrug. _There, that didn't give too much away._

"Come after him?"

"She uh... she had a gun." I whisper.

"What the fuck, Cat!"

"I think she meant to harm herself rather than anyone else. That's why I was so worried about you. I didn't know if you were in the apartment or not." I take a swig of my beer.

"I see. She sounds unstable." he mutters.

"Yes, she is."

"So what's Vincent doing with her now?" he asks.

The blood drains from my face and bile rises in my throat. "I honestly don't know." I whisper.

Tim's eyes widen. _At last, he's got it..._

This is the crux of my problem. _What the fuck are they doing right now? _Talking, I hope. _Just talking... _Yet all I can see in my mind's eye is his hand, tenderly stroking her hair.

_She's disturbed and Vincent cares about her, that's all this is,_ I rationalize. But in the back of my mind, my subconscious is shaking her head sadly. _It's more than that..._ _Alex was able to fulfill his needs in a way that I can't_. The thought is depressing.

I try to focus on all we've done in the last few days—_his declaration of love, his flirty humor, his playfulness. _But Gabriella's words keep coming back to taunt me. It's true what they say about eavesdroppers: _"Don't you miss it... your playroom?"_

I finish my beer in record time, and Tim lines up another round. I'm not much of a companion, but to his credit he stays with me, chatting, trying to lift my broken spirits, talking about Barbados, and Tess and JT's antics, which is wonderfully distracting. But it's just that... a distraction.

My mind, my heart, and my soul are all still in that apartment with my Fifty Shades and the woman who use to be his submissive. A woman who thinks she still loves him. _A woman who looks like me._

During our third beer, a large cruiser with heavily tinted windows pulls up next to the Audi in front of the apartment building. I recognize Dr. Marks as he climbs out, accompanied by a woman dressed in what looks like pale blue scrubs. I glimpse at Sam as he lets them in through the front door.

"Who's that?" Tim asks.

"His name's Dr. Marks. Vincent knows him." I slug down a big amount of beer.

"What kind of doctor?"

"A shrink." I whisper.

"Oh."

We both watch, and a few minutes later, they are back. Vincent is carrying Alex, who is wrapped in a blanket. _What the hell?! _I watch horrified as they all climb into the cruiser, and it speeds away.

Tim glances at me as I release the breath that I hadn't realized I had been holding in. His expression is sympathetic, and I feel desolate, completely desolate.

"Can we order something a bit stronger?" I ask Tim, my voice small.

"Sure. What would you like?"

"A brandy, please." I murmur, finishing my beer.

Tim nods and retreats to the bar. I gaze through the window at the front door. Moments later, Sam emerges, climbs into the Audi, and heads off in the direction of Escala... _after Vincent? _I just don't know.

Tim places a large brandy in front of me, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Come on, Chandler. Let's get drunk."

_Sounds like a good plan to me!_ We clink our glasses, and I take a gulp of the burning amber liquid, the fiery heat a welcome distraction from the hideous blossoming pain in my heart.

* * *

><p>It's late, and I feel fuzzy. Tim and I are locked out of the apartment. He insists on walking me back to Escala, but he won't stay with me. He's called the friend he met earlier for a drink and arranged to crash with him tonight.<p>

"So this is where the Mogul lives." Tim whistles through his teeth, impressed.

I nod.

"Ya' sure you don't want me to walk you up?" he asks.

"No, I need to face this alone. Otherwise, I'm going to bed." I sigh.

"See ya' tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Tim." I hug him.

He sighs, squeezing me tighter in his arms. "You'll work it out, Chandler." he murmurs against my ear. He releases me and watches while I head into the building.

"Laters." he calls. I offer him a weak smile and wave him goodbye, pressing the button to call the elevator.

* * *

><p>The elevator doors open, and I step into Vincent's apartment. Sam isn't waiting, which is unusual. Opening the double doors, I head toward the great room.<p>

Vincent's on the phone, pacing the room near the piano. "She's here." he snaps. He turns to glare at me as he switches off his phone. "Where the fuck have you been?" he growls but doesn't make a move toward me.

_Excuse me?! He's angry with me? He's the one that just spent God only knows how long with his loony ex-girlfriend—oops, submissive—and yet he's angry with ME?!_

"Have you been drinking?" he asks, appalled.

"Yep, quite a bit actually." I mumble.

He gasps and runs his hand through his hair. "I told you to come back here." His voice is menacingly quiet. "It's now fifteen after ten. I've been worried about you."

"What are you, my mother? I went for a drink or three, maybe even four with Tim while _you_ were tending to your ex-sub-thingy!" I hiss at him. "I didn't know how long you were going to be... with _her._"

He narrows his eyes and takes a few paces toward me, but stops. "Why do you say it like _that_?"

I shrug and shift my gaze down to my clasped hands.

"Catherine, what's wrong?" And for the first time, I hear something other than anger in his voice. _But what? Fear?_

I swallow, trying to work out what I want to say. "Where's Alex?" I ask, looking up at him.

"In a psychiatric hospital in Fremont." he says, and his face is scrutinizing mine. "Cat, what is it?" He moves toward me until he's standing right in front of me. "What's wrong?" he breathes.

I shake my head. _I will not cry... I WILL NOT CRY! _"I'm no good for you." I choke out.

"What?" he whispers, his eyes widening in alarm. "Why do you think that? _How _can you possibly think that?"

"I don't think I can be everything you need, Vincent."

"You _are_ everything I need."

I sigh. "It's just... I don't know. After seeing you with her, I—" My voice trails off.

"Why do you do this to me? This is not about you, Catherine. It's about Alex." He takes a sharp breath, running his hand through his hair again. "At the moment, she's a very sick woman."

"But I felt it, Vincent. I felt what you had together." I say softly, still fighting back tears. _I will not cry!_

"What? No." He reaches for me, and I take a step back instinctively. He drops his hand, blinking at me. He looks as though he's seized with panic. "You're running?" he whispers as his eyes widen with fear.

I say nothing. I lick my trembling lips as I look away from him. I just can't fight the tears anymore.

"You can't." he pleads.

"Vincent... I—" I struggle to collect my thoughts. _What am I trying to say? I need time, time to process this. Just give me some time..._

"No." he shakes his head. "No!" he says in a panic.

"Vincent..."

He looks wildly around the room. _For inspiration? For divine intervention? _I don't fucking know. "You can't go. Catherine, please! I love you!"

"And I love you, Vincent, it's just—"

"No... No!" he says in desperation and puts both hands on his head.

"Vincent, listen to me..."

"No." he breathes, is eyes wide with full blown panic, and suddenly he falls to his knees in front of me, head bowed, long-fingered hands spread out on his thighs. He takes a deep breath and doesn't move.

_What? _"Vincent, what are you doing?" I ask. He continues to stare down, not looking at me. "Vincent! What are you doing?" My voice is high-pitched. He doesn't move. "Vincent, please, look at me!" I command in panic.

His head sweeps up without hesitation, and he regards me passively with his cool brown gaze—he's almost serene... expectant. _Holy fuck! _This isn't the man I fell in love with—this is Vincent, the submissive.

He's on his knees at my feet, holding me with his steady gaze. It's the most chilling and sobering sight I've ever seen, more so than Alex and her gun. The vague alcoholic fuzziness I'm suffering from evaporates in an instant and is replaced by a prickling scalp and a creeping sense of doom as the blood drains from my face.

I inhale sharply with shock. _No! This is wrong, so wrong and so disturbing... _"Vincent, please, don't do this. I don't want this." He continues to regard me passively, not moving, and not saying anything. My heart squeezes and twists. _What the hell have I done to him? _More tears prick my eyes. "Why are you doing this? Talk to me." I whisper.

He blinks once. "What would you like me to say?" he says softly, blandly, and for a moment I'm relieved that he's talking, but not like this. _No... NO!_

Tears begin to ooze down my cheeks, and suddenly it's too heart breaking to see him like this, in the same position as the pathetic creature that was Alex. The image of a powerful man who's really still a little boy—_who was horrifically abused and neglected—_who feels unworthy of love from his perfect family and his much-less-than perfect girlfriend... _my lost boy... _it's heartbreaking.

Compassion, loss, and despair all swell into my heart, and I feel a chocking sense of desperation. I'm going to have to fight to bring him back. The thought of me dominating anyone is appalling. The thought of dominating Vincent is nauseating. It would make me just like Gabriella, and that sickens me to the core. I shudder at the thought, fighting the bile in my throat. No way in hell could I do that to him, nor do I want that type of power over him.

As my thoughts clear, I can see only one way out of this. Not taking my eyes off his, I sink to my knees in front of him. The wooden floor is hard against my shins, but I don't care at this point. I dash my tears away roughly with the back of my hand. Like this, we are equals. We're on the same level. This is the only way I'm going to retrieve him. His eyes widen fractionally as I stare up at him, but beyond that, his expression and stance don't change.

"Vincent, you don't have to do this." I plead. "I'm not going to leave you. I've told you and I've told you, time after time again that I will not run." All that's happened... it's overwhelming. I just need some time to think... some time to myself. _Why do you always think the worse, my beloved? _My heart clenches again because I already know; it's because he's so doubting, so full of self-loathing.

Gabriella's words come back to haunt me. "_Does she know how negative you are about yourself? About all your issues?"_

Fear grips my heart once more and I start babbling, "I was going to suggest that I go back to my apartment this evening to think. You never give me any time to myself... time to just think things through." I sob, and a ghost of a frown crosses his face. "I just need time to think. We barely know each other, and all this baggage that comes with you... I just need... I need time to think it through. And now that Alex is... well, whatever she is... she's off the streets and no longer a threat. I thought... I just thought that..." my voice trails off as sobs rip through my body. He continues to regard me intently and I actually think he's listening to me.

"Seeing you with Alex..." I close my eyes as the painful memory of his interaction with his ex-sub gnaws at me anew. "It was such a shock. I had a glimpse into how your life has been... and..." I gaze down at my knotted fingers, tears spilling down my cheeks. "This is about me not being good enough for you. It was an insight into your life, and I'm so scared you'll get bored with me, and then you'll go... and I'll end up like Alex... a shadow. Because I love you, Vincent, and if you leave me, it'll be like a world without light. I'll be in eternal darkness." I take a sharp breath of air, trying to calm my nerves.

"I don't want to run, Vincent. I'm just so frightened that you'll leave me." I add. I realize as I say these words to him—_in the hope that he's listening—_what my real problem is. I just don't get why he likes me. I've never understood why he likes me. "I don't understand why you find me attractive." I murmur. "You're, well, you're you... and I'm..." I shrug and gaze up at him. "I just don't see it. You're beautiful and sexy and successful and great and kind and caring, all of those things, Vincent, and I'm not. And I can't do the things you like to do. I can't give you what you need. How could you be happy with someone like me? How can I possibly keep you?" My voice is a whisper as I express my darkest fears.

"I've never understood what you see in me. And seeing you with her, it brought all that home." I add, sniffling. I wipe my nose with the back of my hand, gazing at his impassive expression.

_Oh, he's so exasperating! Talk to me, dammit! _"Are you going to kneel here all night? Because if you do, I'll do it, too." I snap at him. His expression softens.

I could touch him right now, but that would be a gross abuse of the position he's put me in. I don't want that, but I don't know what he wants, or what he's trying to say to me. I just don't understand. "Vincent, please... please, talk to me." I beseech him, wringing my hands in my lap. I'm uncomfortable on my knees, but I continue to kneel, staring into his serious, beautiful, brown eyes as I wait...

And I wait...

And wait...

"Please." I beg once more.

His intense gaze darkens suddenly and he blinks. "I was so scared." he whispers.

_Oh, thank the Lord! _Inside, my subconscious staggers back into her armchair, sagging with relief, and takes a large swig of gin. _He's talking! _Gratitude overwhelms me, and I swallow, trying t ocontain my emotion and the fresh bout of tears that threatens.

"When I saw Tim arrive outside, I knew someone else had let you into your apartment. Both Sam and I leapt out of the car. We knew and to see her there like that with you, and armed, I... I think I died a thousand deaths, Catherine. Someone threatening you... all my worst fears realized. I was so angry with her, with you, with Sam... and even myself." His voice is soft and low.

He shakes his head revealing his agony. "I didn't know how volatile she would be. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how she'd react." He stops and frowns. "And then she gave me a clue; she looked so contrite, and I knew what I had to do." He pauses, gazing at me, trying to gauge my reaction.

"Go on." I whisper.

He swallows. "Seeing her in that state, knowing that I might have something to do with her mental breakdown..." He closes his eyes once more. "She was always so mischievous and lively." He shudders and takes a rasping breath, almost like a sob. This is torture to listen to, but I stay kneeled, attentive, lapping up this insight. "She might have killed you, and it would have been my fault." His eyes drift off, filled with uncomprehending horror, and he's silent once more.

"But she didn't." I whisper. "And you weren't responsible for her being in that state, Vincent." I blink up at him, encouraging him to continue.

Then it dawns on me afresh that everything he did was to keep me safe, and perhaps Alex, too, because he also cares for her. _But how much does he care for her?_ The question lingers in my head, unwelcome. _He says he loves me, but then he was so harsh, throwing me out of my own apartment._

"I just wanted you gone." he murmurs, with his uncanny ability to read my thoughts. "I wanted you away from the danger, and... You. Just. Wouldn't. Go." he hisses through clenched teeth and shakes his head. He gazes at me intently. "Catherine Chandler, you are the most stubborn woman I know." He closes his eyes and shakes his head once more in disbelief.

_Oh, he's back... _I breathe a long, cleansing sigh of relief.

He opens his eyes again, his expression is forlorn, sincere. "You wasn't going to run?" he asks.

"No! Of course not!" I gasp.

He closes his eyes again and his whole body relaxes. When he opens his eyes, I can see his pain and anguish. "I thought..." He stops. "This is me, Catherine. All of me... and I belong to you. What do I have to do to make you realize that? To make you see that I want you any way I can get you? That I love you?"

"I love you more than words can say, Vincent. Seeing you like this is..." I choke and my tears start anew. "I thought I had broken you." I sob.

"Broken? Me? Oh no, Catherine. Just the opposite." He reaches out and takes my hand. "You're my lifeline." he whispers, and he kisses my knuckles before pressing my palm against his. With wide eyes, full of fear, he gently tugs my hand and places it firmly onto his chest, right over his heart—_in the forbidden zone! _

I gasp and his breathing quickens. His heart is beating a frantic, pounding tattoo beneath my palm. He doesn't take his eyes off mine; his jaw is tense, his teeth clenched.

_Oh my God! He's letting me touch him. _And it's like all the air in my lungs has vaporized—_gone!_ The blood is pounding in my ears as the rhythm of my heart rises to match his.

He releases my hand, leaving it in place over his heart. I flex my fingers slightly, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. He's holding his breath. I can't bear to see him like this. I make to move my hand.

"No!" he says quickly and places his hand once more over mine, pressing my fingers against him. "Don't." he adds.

I shuffle closer so our knees touch and tentatively raise my other hand so that he knows exactly what I intend to do. His eyes grow wider, but he doesn't stop me.

Gently I start to undo the buttons on his shirt. It's tricky with one hand. I flex my fingers beneath his hand and he lets go, allowing me to use both hands to undo his shirt. My eyes don't leave his as I slowly pull his shirt open, revealing his bare, muscular chest.

He swallows, and his lips part as his breathing increases, and I sense his rising panic, but he doesn't pull away. _Is he still in sub mode? _I have no idea.

_Should I do this? _I don't want to hurt him, physically or mentally. The sight of him like this, offering himself to me, has been a wake-up call.

I reach up, and my hand hovers over his chest, and I stare at him... asking for his permission. Very subtly, he tilts his head to one side, steeling himself in anticipation of my touch, and the tension radiates from him. But this time, it's not in anger... it's in fear.

I hesitate. _Can I really do this to him?_

"Yes." he breathes—again with the weird ability to answer my unspoken questions.

I extend my fingertips to the top of his sternum, and trail them softly down over his chest. He closes his eyes, and his face creases as if he's experiencing intolerable pain. It's unbearable to witness, so I lift my fingers immediately, but he shocks me by grabbing my hand and jerks back flat onto his bare chest.

"No." he says, his voice strained. "I need to." His eyes are screwed shut tightly. This must be agony. It's truly tormenting to watch.

Carefully, I let my fingers stroke across his chest to his heart, marveling at the feel of him, terrified that this is a step too far. He opens his eyes, and they are blazing at me. His look is blistering, feral, beyond intense, and his breathing is rapid. It stirs my blood. I begin squirming under his gaze.

So far he hasn't stopped me, so I run my fingertips softly across his chest again, and his mouth goes slack. He's panting, and I don't know if it's from fear, or something else.

I've wanted to kiss him on the chest for so long that I lean up on my knees, holding his gaze with mine, making my intention very clear to him, then I bend and place a soft kiss in the area of his heart. His strangled groan moves me so much that I sit back onto my heels, fearful of what I'll see on his face.

"Again." he whispers, and I lean into his chest once more, this time to kiss one of his scars. He gasps, and I kiss another and another. He groans loudly, and suddenly his arms are around me, and his hand is in my hair, pulling my head up painfully so that my lips meet his insistent mouth. And we're kissing animalistically, my fingers knotting into his hair.

"Jesus, Catherine." he breathes, and he twists and pulls me down onto the floor so that I'm underneath him. I bring my hands up to cup his beautiful face, and in that moment, I feel his tears.

Vincent is crying._ No...NO! _"Vincent please, don't cry. I meant it when I said that I'd never leave you. I did! If I gave you any other impression, I am so, so sorry... please, please forgive me. I love you. I will _always_ love you."

He looms over me, gazing down into my face. His expression is pained.

"What is it?" I whisper.

His eyes grow larger.

"What is this secret that makes you think that I will run for the hills? That makes you so determined to believe I'll go?" I plead, my voice tremulous. "Tell me, Vincent, please..."

He sits up, though this time he crosses his legs and I follow suit, my legs outstretched. He gazes down at me, holding the same pained expression as he blinks rapidly, his lips are parted. "I'm a sadist, Catherine. I whip little brown-haired women like you because you all look like my birth mother. I'm sure you can guess why." He says it in a rush as if he's had the sentence in his head for days and is desperate to be rid of it.

And my world comes to a complete stop. _Oh...My...God... _I'm speechless and finding it hard to breathe. This is not what I'd expected. This is bad. _Really bad. _I glare at him, trying to understand the implication of what he's just said. It does explain why we all look alike. My immediate thought is that Alex was right—_"Master is dark."_

I recall the first conversation I had wit him about his tendencies when we were in the Red Room of Pain. "You said you wasn't a sadist." I whisper, desperately trying to understand... trying to find some type of excuse for him.

"No, I said I was a Dominant. If I lied to you, it was a lie of omission. I'm sorry." he murmurs, looking briefly down at his hands. I think he's mortified. _Mortified about lying to me? Or about what he is? _"When you asked me that question, I had envisioned a very different relationship between us." he mutters. I can tell by his gaze that he's terrified.

Then it hits me like a wrecking ball. _If he's a sadist, then he really does need all that whipping and caning shit. Oh fuck! _I put my head into my hands. "So it's true." I whisper, glancing up at him. "I can't give you what you need." This is it—_this really does mean that we're incompatible._

The world starts falling at my feet, collapsing around me as panic grips my throat. _This is it... We can't do this..._

He frowns. "No...no, no, no, no, no, Catherine. God no. You can. You do give me what I need." He clenches his fists. "Please believe me." he whispers, his words an impassioned plea.

"I honestly don't know _what_ to believe anymore, Vincent. This is so fucked-up." I murmur, my throat hoarse and aching as it closes in, chocking me with unshed tears.

His eyes are wide and luminous when he looks at me again. "Catherine, believe me. After I punished you and you left me, my worldview changed. I wasn't joking when I said I would avoid ever feeling like that again." He gazes at me with pained entreaty. "When you said you loved me, it was a revelation. No one's ever said it to me before, and it was as if I'd laid something to rest—or maybe you laid it to rest, I don't know. Dr. Marks and I are still in deep discussion about it."

_Oh... _Hope flares briefly in my heart. _Perhaps we'll be okay. _I want us to be okay. _Don't I? _"What does that all even mean?" I whisper.

"It means I don't need it. Now anymore."

_Huh? _"How do you know? How can you be so sure?" I ask.

"I just know. The thought of hurting you... in any real way... it's abhorrent to me." he says softly.

"I don't understand. What about rulers and spankings and all kinky fuckery?"

He runs a hand through his hair and almost smiles but instead, he sighs ruefully. "I'm talking about the heavy shit, Cat. You should see what I can do with a cane or a cat."

My mouth drops open. "I'd rather not!" I snap.

"I know, and I respect that. If you did, fine... but you don't and I get it. I can't do all that shit with you if you don't want to. I told you once before, you have all the power. And now, since you came back, I don't feel that compulsion, at all."

I gape at him for a moment trying to take this all in. "When we met, that's what you wanted, though?"

"Yes, undoubtedly."

"How can your compulsion just go away, Vincent? Like I'm some kind of panacea, and you're what? Cured? I don't get it."

He sighs once more. "I wouldn't say cured... You don't believe me?"

"I just find it—unbelievable. Which is different." I mutter.

"If you'd never left me, then I probably wouldn't feel this way. You walking out on me was the best thing you ever did... for us. It made me realize how much I want you, just you, and I mean it when I say I'll take you any way I can have you."

I gaze at him. _Can I believe this? _My head hurts just trying to think this all through, and deep down I feel... numb.

"You're still here. I thought you would be out the door by now." he whispers.

"Why? Because I might think you're a sicko for whipping and fucking women that resemble your birth mother? Whatever would give you that impression?" I hiss at him, lashing out.

He blanches at my harsh words. "Well, I wouldn't have put it quite like that, but yeah." he says, his eyes wide and hurt. His expression is sobering and I regret my outburst immediately.

I frown, feeling a pang of guilt. _Oh God, what am I going to do? _I gaze at him and he looks contrite, sincere... he looks like my Vincent.

And unbidden, I recall the photograph in his childhood bedroom, and in that moment I realize why the woman in it looked so familiar. She looked like him. She must have been his biological mother.

His easy dismissal of her comes to mind: _No one of consequence... She's responsible for all of this... and I look like her. Fuck! _

He stares at me, eyes raw, and I know he's waiting for my next move. He seems genuine. He's said he loves me, but I'm really confused. This is all so fucked-up. He's reassured me about Alex, but now I know with more certainty than ever how she was able to give him his kicks. The thought is wearying and unpalatable. I am so tired of all this. "Vincent, I'm exhausted. Can we discuss this tomorrow? I want to go to bed."

He blinks at me in surprise. "You're not leaving?"

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No! I just assumed that you would leave once you knew." he murmurs.

All the times he's alluded to me leaving once I knew his darkest secrets flash through my mind... and I now know why. _Shit! _Master _is _dark.

_Should I leave? _I gaze at him, this crazy man that I love—_yes love—_oh so dearly.

_Can I leave him? _I left him once before, and it nearly destroyed us both. _I love him! _I know that in spite of this revelation.

"Don't leave me." he whispers.

_Jesus! _"Oh, for crying out loud, no! I'm not going to leave you!" I shout and it's cathardic. _There, I've said it. _I am not leaving.

"Really?" His eyes widen.

I sigh as I speak to him softly, "What can I do to make you understand that I will not run? Tell me, what can I say? Do?"

He gazes at me, revealing his fear and anguish again. He swallows hard before speaking. "There is one thing you can do."

"What?" I snap.

His gaze softens. "Marry me." he whispers.

_Wait, what?! Did he really just—_

_Oh my god, he did... _And for the second time in less than half an hour, my world comes to a complete halt.

* * *

><p><em><strong>**Stopping it there. I can't post a long AN because I have homework, so review me with your thoughts. XOXO! Love you guys!****_


End file.
